


"You Know I Can Hear Everything You're Thinking?"

by Uncreativity



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Cat and Mouse, Child Prodigy, Childhood Trauma, Clubbing, College, Dancing, Diablo Publishing, Disc Jockey, Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Gay Panic, Hot business women, Humor, Lacrosse, Lesbian Sex, Mind Link, Mind Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Nyota is a lead editor damn it, Nyota is smart, Partying, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Shared conciousness, She also graduated high school at 11, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Strap-Ons, They Make It Work, Trauma, Val is lazy, i will add more tags, roller rinks, roller skating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 43,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24677596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uncreativity/pseuds/Uncreativity
Summary: Graduating summa cum laude from Mercy College inDobbs Ferry, New Yorkwasn't something Valerian Cisco thought she would accomplish. Valerian thought lacrosse would take her where she needed to go, then it was her senior year... then she was walking across the stage... then she got her degree... then she was 22... 23... 24... Fuck.Nyota Hawthorne was in one of the richest households in American history, not to mention all the fuss that comes with being a poetic prodigy with an IQ of 155 by the time she was 14. She doesn't have time for games and people that cheat their way to the top.Valerian Cisco was an S-class schmoozer with expertise on getting as much as possible for as little (if any) effort.Nyota Hawthorne double-majored from NYU at the age of 15 and her word is sacred when it comes to literature.Valerian Cisco spun records in university and cheated out trust fund kids to deplete her debt and disrupt the system.These two women wouldn't like each other. Wouldloatheeach other. It wasn't up to them to meet, just a day of existing with some anger and they'reliterallyin each other's heads."You Know I Can Hear Everything You're Thinking?" Right?
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 14
Kudos: 10





	1. Intro into my new work!

**Author's Note:**

> Heeey, so I've been wallowing in my boredom and toying around with some ideas, writing some ideas, and then I basically vomited up this entire storyline with some rough drafts written...
> 
> Fun times :)
> 
> I'm not sure if I'll have an upload schedule for this work, but, for every day I don't upload it's because I'm drafting another chapter or I'm literally sleeping the day away.

Woop! Woop! We've made it back! I feel good!

So, if you aren't familiar with my works for Ny and Val Adventures then this adaptation is not apart of that canonical storyline, so it should be easy to catch on, but I'd still like you to read the Ny and Val Adventures, of course. The characters here are older, maybe even a little wiser, but definitely still very gay and useless with their homosexuality. I took a different approach with Valerian in this story; she's a schoomzer, and she knows how to get exactly what she wants with as little effort as possible. If it were up to Val, she'd sleep her days away, and only come out of her room for women, booze, and food. I also toned down her promiscuousness, not to say she _isn't_ a player, but it's less implied in this story than it is with the Ny and Val Adventures works that I've published previously. 

Spencer and Jasmine serve as the primary secondary characters as well. I've split up the trio formed between Valerian, Spencer, and Jasmine in the Ny and Val Adventures, however. In this instance, I've connected Jasmine and Nyota more so, with Spencer being a mutual friend between Nyota and Jasmine. Valerian and Jasmine are near-strangers in the story, they know each other exists, but don't worry, I'll get the group dynamic up and going in no time. 

I went a different route with Nyota in this instance as well, previously, Nyota is fairly down-to-earth, kind, still searching for real people to be around, which draws her to Valerian. However, in this tale I ramped up her intellect and assertiveness, not to say she's an ice queen, but the temperature definitely drops significantly once she enters a room. I wanted Nyota to be a powerhouse in her job despite her age, I had her graduate high school earlier, and graduate college at an earlier date, and _still_ be younger the rest of the characters. She's quick, doesn't take shit, believes hard work is the only way to prosper in the world, and definitely wouldn't ever cross paths with a person like Valerian and take them seriously.

Which is why I don't have them cross paths.

Mwahahaha, now that was the appetizer for the prelude to the story, the caesar salad if you will. Here's the main course, the turkey, ham, and mac n' cheese, I hope you're hungry now.

I added a mind link. Sue me. Now, I wanted to frame out these mechanics. 

The link only occurs between Nyota and Valerian, it seemingly pops out of nowhere. Mind link dialogue will be indicated by _italicized text_ , with the absence of quotes. Actual conversation will be indicated with "quotation marks." I will also be writing in first person p.o.v for this story, I think it's going to enhance the WTF factor that the mind link brings, and put the reader directly inside our wonderful protagonists' heads. 

The link picks up every. single. thought. So if Nyota or Valerian are thinking of an embarrassing moment they've had at the age of 12 or 13? The other person will automatically feel that embarrassment as well. The link not only tracks thoughts, and the quippy conversations the two will have, but it translates emotions between the two of them. The link does not pick up dialogue, so there will definitely be moments where Nyota and Valerian will be physically speaking so the other doesn't have to hear what they're thinking. I don't have an estimate on the length of the story, I'm looking for the chapters to be around 4,000-6,000 words each, and I will definitely be getting into sexually explicit movements between the two of them, but I want the burn to be slow, so the tension will be on a low simmer for some time, these women are _not_ going to like each other off the bat.

I'm also going to be alternating perspectives between Nyota and Valerian, I really wanna give you guys some insight into Nyota's head because the entirety of the Ny and Val Adventures is written from Valerian's perspective, so with that, we're definitely going to get some #smartypantsNyota because she truly is a smarty pants.

I hope you guys are excited about this story as I am, this idea has been gnawing at me for some time, and I'm finally ready and very excited to share this!


	2. Chapter 1: Into The Basement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Val you have to let it go, you can’t spin, it isn’t sustainable any longer,”
> 
> _Or..._
> 
> Valerian is forced to get a new job, along with some drunken backstory, maybe even a #triggerwarning for an undescriptive anxiety attack? It's brief I promise.
> 
> Oh yeah, someone's also in her fucking head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jumping into this I'm giving you guys some Valerian p.o.v initially, she's gonna be complex, gonna go through some shit, already been through shit. I'd love to hear theories on the story surrounded her scar, and maybe why she no longer writes?
> 
> As always, I'd love for some feedback, give me a kudos, comment, tell me I smell, whatever.
> 
> Happy reading!

_**Valerian** _

Walk with me here for a second, and I mean that metaphorically of course.

Picture this: Class of 2016, blue and white cap and gown on my head. I’m about to be a graduate, we’re graduating in the gymnasium I took a step in for three separate occasions and was inebriated each time. I’m graduating summa cum laude, however the _fuck_ I managed that. I’m drunk right now, yes I am, and I almost stumble when I’m waiting in line. I’m waiting for Mercy College’s President _Timothy L. Hall_ to pass me my diploma that I wasn’t aware that I worked so fucking hard for. The gym is packed, my parents are… somewhere, my best friend’s name was _already_ called, I’m bored, my feet keep shuffling forward, as name after name is read aloud. It feels like my head is underwater and there are people screaming at me, trying to tell me to let myself breathe, but I don’t want to breathe. I’m drunk, sluggish, It’s obvious; I don’t care, they can’t kick me out, I’m right here, all summa cum laude and “smart” they can’t kick me ou-

“Valerian Maverick Cisco.” Timothy L. Hall is waiting for me, I don’t want to touch him.

I step onto the stage, avoiding the congratulating hand he places on everyone’s shoulder, I turn to the camera, _smolder,_ I finish my walk and I hear cheers. My head turns, the tassel on my cap switching sides to indicate, that yes, I indeed graduated. I see about 15 girls in the crowd cheering, underclassman, my drunk eyes focus,

Oh yeah, I did do something.

“Captain!!!” They scream, I wince, I’m drunk.

Garbled faces soon become recognized in my psyche, _oh yeah_ I forgot. I played Division II lacrosse, got voted midfielder of the year for the ECC, these are my teammates, well, former teammates.

 _Oooooooh_ That’s why they’re screaming.

I’m drunk.

~

I jerk awake on my bed. My room is dark, playboy poster in that corner, Matrix poster in that corner, cardboard cutout of Wonder Woman stuffed in my closet, the usual. 

If anyone would believe a summa cum laude graduate of Mercy College, private institution of _Dobbs Ferry, New York_ was going to be living in a tiny ass Manhattan apartment, after securing a degree in English, surrounded by action figures and masturbating all the time, well, no one would believe that because it only happened to me. Yeah, yeah, say I “threw it all way” I’ve heard it all before, I’ve played the fool before, many a time. See the difference between me and the average fuckup is that I’m _aware_ I’m a fuckup. I give a big middle finger to the system because fuck the system. 

I spent year 22 of my life drunk almost every single day, my liver hates me, then I proceeded to spend years 23 and half of year 24 laying on a couch. Something finally bothered me during the summer of 2019 however. That something was my best friend’s bare ass falling on my face while I was napping in complete tranquility at 9 o’clock pm, Eastern Standard Time, the time zone doesn’t matter, but I added it anyway. The feeling of my best friend, Spencer motherfucking Abasta’s vagina, _scraping_ against my face, along with her asshole? I’ve never been the same. 

I moved out 4 days later, into my current place. It’s small, very small, I don’t decorate, I needed a place to put my booze, my action figures, record collection, my mixing decks, turntables, and my bed. This place suffices, in the heart of Manhattan, not in a terrible area, and about a 5-minute walk to Neon.

Neon was the first of its kind, a roller rink catering towards explicit music, women in ill amounts of clothing, marijuana on the premises, sex in bathrooms; it catered toward adults. Still 24, still scarred from Spencer’s vagina, I walked my ass down to Neon, seeing the help wanted sign on the mirror the day before when I went to get an egg, cheese, and sausage sandwich, almost dropped my damn sandwich when I saw the sign.

The manager of the roller rink, Nikiforova Snezana Svyatoslavovna, sucked a drag from her cigarette and blew it in my face when I walked in the door, I didn’t cough.

“Are you a boy or a girl?” Her tone? Unapologetic. Her accent? Thick, and _very_ Russian.

Shuffling, my apprehension for leaving the house hitting me like a truck, “I’m a woman ma’am,” respectable as could, I muttered that.

She laughed, her gap in the front of her mouth on display as well as the lack of teeth in the back of her mouth. She sucked another drag, blew the smoke in my face, and grinned. “Call me Niki, I’m not your fucking mother.”

Nodding, my hands dug in the pockets of my jeans. “I saw your help wanted sign?” I pointed to the window, Niki followed my gaze, sucked another drag, but this time exhaled away from my face. 

“Come,” It wasn’t a question, Niki seemed like a woman that when she walked, people began to follow.

Follow I did. I followed her to the DJ booth occupied in the corner of the roller rink. I was surprised at the polished wooden floors of the rink. Spencer and I used to skate back in the day, and wooden floors helped immensely with the experience. I watched Niki take the keys tucked into her neon pink yoga pants and unlock the door, I looked at her, and she motioned for me to enter. The set up wasn’t bad, the mixing decks were outdated compared to mine, turntables smaller than my currents ones, the speakers were high quality, and the master outlets were highlighted, the technical aspect of the room seemed taken care of.

I turned to her, “I’ve got my own controllers, mixing decks, RCA plugs, and turntables at home, will I be able to use those? Or am I limited to this setup?” Niki raised an eyebrow at me, I gulped, asscheeks clenched.

“Limited? You saying my setup isn’t adequate? That I didn’t pour enough money into this?” She looked serious, and I began to ramble, backpedaling as quickly as I could.

Immediately afterward, Niki began laughing, her laughs echoing into coughs almost instantly, nonetheless, she pulled another cigarette from between her breasts and lit it, looking at me.

“What’s your name?” A gleam in her eye that I picked up, maybe it was all that summa cum laude knowledge coming back to me.

“Valerian,” I spoke then stood from my knelt position. She sized me up, I hadn’t brushed my hair in days, dark brown wavy locks falling right to my shoulders, my green eyes stared back into Niki’s blue ones. The blonde of her hair an eyesore compared to the neon green tank top she wore, in contrast to those neon pink tights.

Niki held out her hand, I took it and she smiled. “I like you Val- may I call you Val?” I nodded, it was the name everyone called me, though I had a feeling if I wasn’t comfortable with being called Val, Niki would still call me by it anyway.

“Here’s what I’m going to do-” Cigarette between her middle and index fingers she clasped her hands together.

“I’m going to give you a tryout, this Saturday is 90s throwback themed, here at Neon we enjoy our themed days. Dress the theme, play music from the theme, wow me and you get the job. We open at 7, remain open until 1:30, come early enough to set up your equipment,” She crossed her arms over her chest, seemingly inviting an objection from my end, but I had none.

“Okay, sounds like a plan, I look forward to it.” I accepted and shook her hand stepping out of the DJ booth, I began walking toward the exit of the roller rink and Niki called my name, I turned.

“Bring your own skates ребенок!” I didn’t know what she said at the end, but the suggestion was clear, so I guess I’ll bring my own skates. 

~

My skates weren’t in my tiny ass apartment, they were in Spencer’s tiny ass apartment.

So that’s where I went after my “job interview” I had 4 days to compile my own music, then download more for my laptop so I can satisfy any song requests. Leaving the roller rink I walked the short distance from my apartment down towards Spencer’s place. She had given me a key when I was 23, which I had never utilized because like I said, I didn’t really move or leave the couch for around a year and a half. It came in handy now, I completely stepped over the threshold of the door intentionally, that particular wooden panel creaky beyond repair, which is something I tried many a time to fix. 

Spencer was in the kitchen, her waist-length brown hair tied up in a pony that ended around mid-back, she turned toward me and set down the knife in her hand, probably willing to use it if were an actual intruder.

“Sometimes I forget I gave you a key.” Which is Spencer talk for ‘Bitch, I would’ve thrown this knife at you, text me next time you want to show up’

“That’s because I never used it,” Matter-of-factly I spoke while heading toward Spencer’s room, my friend continuing to chop up vegetables and hum along to the cumbias she was playing, probably cursing at me in Spanish under her breath.

Spencer was neat, almost alarmingly so, and I was grateful when I entered her mediocre sized closet. My eyes looked at her Mercy College cap and gown, I smiled to myself, remembering when both applied and got accepted.

Spence and I were born on the West Coast, in San Bernardino, California, our families quickly relocated to Pasadena soon after. We grew up together, every summer sneaking into the Rose Bowl, getting into trouble, but I always had lacrosse growing up. I was a big fish in a small pond, my coaches speculated that I one day could be Olympic bound and play for the U.S.A. I just never had those aspirations for myself, I wasn’t a dreamer, I just played. When I got an offer to play Division II, instead of Division I, I’ll never forget the disappointed look on my coaches’ faces when I accepted. It was never about the level I was playing at for me, I just liked playing lacrosse, so when private institution Mercy College of _Dobby Ferry, New York_ contacted me, clearing my entire tuition, I took it graciously. Then Spencer followed me along the way, we found a place at Mercy College’s Manhattan campus and spent four years of our lives getting drunk, having sex, and in my experience, dominating on the field.

I blinked and looked away from the cap and gown, I still had mine, but I didn’t remember much from graduation, my inebriation being the highlight of the day, then going out and waking up the next morning butt-ass naked in a pool, my head just above the water. 

Spinning records got me through university, I began at 18, much to my coaches’ chagrin, apparently, the concept of kids, especially teenagers, having more than one interest was unfathomable. But, it brought in the money, private universities had its perks, all of my equipment was from me doing gigs at college parties for trust fund kids, who all felt it necessary to pay above my constantly fluctuating rates, they didn’t care, if money wasn’t their concern, then it sure as hell wasn’t going to be my concern either.

I knelt in the closet and pulled out a gray container, the black marker on the front, labeled **Val and I’s roller skates** didn’t take a summa cum laude genius to decode what was in the box. Popping the top off the container I looked inside and saw the roller skates I hadn’t worn since I was 21 years old, I grabbed the size 11’s and put the top of the container back onto the box, sliding it back into its original spot and walking back out to the kitchen to find Spencer sitting on her couch, what used to be my couch, and eating the salsa she had prepared while I was rummaging around her closet. 

“Why the skates?” She had turned toward me when I stood in her bedroom doorway, one hand with the bowl of salsa in it, and the other hand with a chip, ready to be dipped and consumed.

“I have a test run at Neon, think I might be spinning there soon-” I held up the skates, “-These are apart of my uniform I’m assuming?” I ran a hand through my messy hair.

Spencer hummed, dipped her chip, then ate it, the crunch echoing over the sound of the TV. “How much are you getting paid?” She asked, it was a fair question, but I made a face, because I hadn’t thought of asking.

“I actually don’t know,” I answered honestly and Spencer gave me a look. 

She shook her head, “If it’s anything under 11 dollars an hour, run for the hilltops Val,” She turned back to her television program, a telenovela, and watched happily.

I let myself out afterward, then walked home, skates in hand. 

~

Making a playlist, one as important as this one, took finesse. I couldn’t rely on Apple Music’s _Crazy 90s Party Hits Megamix!_ a playlist like this took time to make, so I sifted through my musical library, downloading my selected songs to my software, Serato DJ. It took time, I chose chart-toppers like _I Like The Way (The Kissing Game)_ by Hi-Five, and others like _Cream_ by Prince. I whittled some deep cutes in there, then some popularized songs that didn’t top the charts at the time, though my own preference at times began to compromise the integrity of the playlist.

Less J-Lo here, more P-Diddy, less Destiny’s Child there, more Janet Jackson and Mariah Carey.

Of course throw in crowd classics like Montel Jordan, Vanilla Ice, and Sir Mix-A-Lot.

By the time Friday rolled around I had crafted a good 5 hours of music, but that would only take me to midnight, so the rest of my time was spent downloading any song that came to my head that a person would potentially request, I felt like I was predicting the future, trying to figure what songs a person _might_ ask for. 

Alas, Saturday rolls around. 

Dressing on the theme, I wrapped the black-and-white bandana around my head, I had sprayed in chunky blonde highlights earlier, my wavy brown hair tendrils framing my face as the bandana came around my forehead. My overalls were light wash, and a strap was undone, the garment hanging off one of my shoulders and I had a Brooklyn Nets basketball jersey underneath. My equipment was in its cases, I kept my DJ table, my turntables, and my mixing decks at home. What went with me were my headphones, my DJ Controller, my laptop holder, and my laptop that was snug in my backpack. I took the short trek to Neon as the sun began to set in Manhattan, the nightlife had already begun to peak its head, though bars and clubs were preparing for drunk adults, sex in bathrooms, and any other shenanigans people found themselves in.

I entered Neon through the front door, the help wanted sign gone from the window. One of the wristband vouchers stared at me as I held up my equipment. Bored, the teenage girl barked out something in Russian, and Niki reared her head around the corner. I had to admit, the place looked way different in the evening than it had in the morning 4 days prior.

The lights weren’t off completely, but dimmed, shockingly clean carpeted floors laid across the benches for patrons to sit, the lockers propped against the walls to stash belongings were rid of graffiti and were practically spotless. The kitchen that had two larger gruff looking men gave me glances the second I walked in even looked clean, the men were washing off glasses, checking the slushie and nacho machines, and my eyes even bulged at the wall of liquor that laid behind them. 

Niki saw me and grinned, “An hour early Val? Впечатляющий” she had no cigarette for the moment before she motioned me toward the roller rink. 

The rink looked even bigger at night, the impressive wall of arcade games powered on for the evening, wooden floors looked freshly polished, the disco ball on the ceiling of the rink causing a grin to crack out on my face.

“This place is incredible,” I spoke and understood the appeal, it seemed like a place for adults but with the slightest child-like touch integrated all throughout.

My head turned toward the kitchen as I saw a cotton candy machine powered on, contrast that with the large bottle of margarita mix one of the burly men had cracked open. Niki turned back toward me, a cigarette appearing in her hand out of nowhere, “Nice outfit” Her accent threatened to garble the words, but I caught along to what she was saying well enough. 

She led back out to the DJ booth and unlocked the door, then tossed the key to me, raising an eyebrow. “I’m trusting you, Val, I put my heart and soul into this place,” It was probably the most serious I had seen Niki and I nodded my head, knowing if I didn’t pull off this job, that I wasn’t sure where else I would turn to for money. 

I could _always_ sell my ass, but I wasn’t quite ready to make that ultimatum yet.

Taking my DJ Controller out I adored my newly purchased Denon MC4000, I set the controller on the table and took out my RCA cables. Lining up the white-to-white cables, then the red-to-red cables, I took my USB cord and plugged it into my laptop, setting my Macbook Air onto my laptop stand and powering it on. I scrolled through my Serato DJ software a few times, making sure my mixes were saved and the music I downloaded were all there. The DJ booth had a built-in seat so I sat to lace up my roller skates.

I turned on the microphone in the DJ booth and tapped the end a few times.

“Test, test,” My voice echoed through the empty roller rink, and I repeated the phrase.

Looking at my saved samples in my software I queued up the 90s medley I put together in the deck section of my DJ controller, using the jog wheel to mimic some vinyl scratching, my scratching acted a bridge as the 90s medley flowed in, my manipulation going away as the beginnings of Will Smith’s _Gettin’ Jiggy With It_ began playing through the speakers of the roller rink. I let the song continue playing, my eyes glued to the laptop screen as I dragged another track to the deck section of the DJ controller, using my hot cue to begin to mix the two songs together, eventually, the BPMs began to mesh and I used my pitch slider to take away _Gettin’ Jiggy With It_ as Christina Aguilera’s _Genie In A Bottle_ replaced the track.

I let the medley continue, the songs used separate from the ones in my actual playlist, I continued warming up, my headphones on and head focused in the music, I was concentrated, my transitions smooth, my beatmatching getting better with the more songs I played, I felt like I was back in college, spinning for trust fund kids as I earned thousands of dollars for a 3-hour gig. 

I let the music fade out, my medley ending as Niki knocked on the door of the DJ booth, I rolled toward her, stepping out of the booth, fully over 6ft tall with the addition of my skates and Niki gave me a grin. 

“You’re hired,” She blew smoke in my face and I almost stumbled and fell in my skates, flabbergasted.

“What?” My voice? Incredulous.

She shrugged and took another drag, “I’m not going to find another disc jockey in the area on such short notice, besides I like the music you play,” Niki patted my shoulder robotically, probably in her best attempt at comforting me.

“What are my hours? What’s my pay? Am I the only DJ?” My questions rattled off and Niki held her hands out, as if to stop me from asking more. 

“You’ll be working weekends, Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays. My lesser adequate DJ will take Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays, for lesser pay of course,” Niki spoke and I could feel my eyebrows furrowing, she hadn’t answered one of my questions.

“16 bucks an hour, there’s your pay, you work from 7 to 1:30, fours days out of the week, paid weekly,” she crossed her arms once again, mimicking the stance she had 4 days earlier, prompting a retort from me.

Much like those 4 days earlier, I didn’t have any complaints.

“Plus, I’ll pay you 900 bucks tonight,” Niki added, the gap in her teeth gleaming at the change in my expression.

Then I especially didn’t have any complaints.

_**6 Months Later** _

“Val, c’mon! Just think about it?” Spencer, all 5’4 in her glory was chasing me around my apartment.

Update. I bought some curtains since getting employed. I loved my job, spinning was fun, the regulars enjoyed my music, I got along well with Niki, things were good, up and until about a month ago.

Random health inspector visit, I was moving around the rink in my skates, about to step off the wood in search of Niki, I wasn’t even working that day but I had gone in on a weekday to hear the other disc jockey, Miguel, spin a little. Unfortunately, Mr. Health Inspector had made eye contact with me. I ignored him and found Niki nonetheless. I told her the city health inspector was here, which prompted her to push me out of her office and she extinguished her cigarette. I didn’t know which laws we were in violation of, but I knew it took a chunk of out of Neon’s expenses. The roller rink was expensive to get into as it was, it had a good reputation, great music, cheap drinks, but word had gotten out that the health inspector said some choice words about the building, its structure, cleanliness, things only a “certified health inspector” could see and a lot of revenue went away.

My pay dropped as well, from $16 an hour to $8. If I hadn’t been working there, If I hadn’t felt like I owed Niki for giving me a job without much of an argument, I would’ve left, but I didn’t. I loved Neon, so I stayed and kept spinning for the patrons that did show up, the otherwise clean-looking roller rink becoming absolutely crystal clear after the debacle. I smelled foul play involved, Niki was a successful woman, her staff included her ticket vouchers, which were her nieces, her chefs/bartenders were her brothers, her technician that handled faulty arcade games, the electrical routing in the DJ booth, and the light systems was her son, her three other sons handled skate rentals and safety precautions on the wood. Then her two Disc jockeys, which were me and Miguel were the only two people that she wasn’t related to. Yet she treated us like family. 

Her entire family was Russian, they freely spoke Russian, and after some light digging I found the health inspector had used some pretty colorful words to describe the self-made immigrants in America on his Twitter account. I brought the fact up to Niki, but she let me know that she was fully aware of his views of her culture, nationality, and immigrant status. 

“I play by the rules as well as I can Val,” Her smoke no longer hitting me in the face as she spoke.

I gained an entirely different level of respect for that woman after the fact.

Respect, and keeping a job that paid me half of what I used to get paid, doesn’t pay the bills. In fact, I hadn’t really been paying the bills, my landlord about fed up with my late payments and promises that I’ll have the money as if it’ll just float in my hand out of thin air. Spencer, rightfully so, was trying to knock some sense into me.

“Val you have to let it go, you can’t spin, it isn’t sustainable any longer,” she waved her hands as she spoke, as if that will help her translate the point to me, she was absolutely correct, I shouldn’t spin any longer.

“You’re right, but I owe Niki-” I tried, but I didn’t get far.

“My god Val, you _don’t._ You don’t owe her shit, and this narrative and fallacy that you’ve created to make you feel as if you do is holding you back, and it’s the reason you’re gonna be fucking living on the streets if you keep this up!” Her voice cracked and we both stopped moving.

Spencer sagged against the wall and slid down to her feet, “I refuse to watch my friend, who is in every way smarter and more resilient than I succumb to a standard that you’ve created in your head,” She looks at me, her gaze naked, piercing, intense. 

I looked back, Spencer’s big brown eyes not able to hide an inch of her emotions even if she tried her hardest. I sighed and slid down the wall opposite her.

“So you want me to work with you?” I was put off by the idea, but I spoke nonetheless. 

“Yes, I’m the manager of the mailroom. But starting pay is $18 an hour Valerian, and who knows, an editor could catch a read of any of your stuff and you could work your way u-” She continued speaking but stopped at my expression.

“I stopped writing, you know that,” My voice soft, defeated, years 23 and half of year 24 of my life looking at me accusatorily.

I took a deep breath and ran a finger ran through the scar in my eyebrow, the hair no longer growing in the space, my face twitched and I exhaled, my chest quivering as my breaths came out shakily.

“Val, you know I didn’t mean to-” Spencer began, but stopped again, my mouth opening of its own accord. 

“Just let me breathe for a second...” My jaw was clenched, eyes shut. I counted my inhales and exhales, the feeling returning to my hands, my vision clearing up, I brushed past the anxiety, the numbness returning and I picked up my head.

Spencer and I stared at each other. She cleared her throat. I cleared mine.

“Work with me Val, Diablo Publishing is an excellent company, lots of benefits, hearty pay, you know I only live in my apartment because it’s close to you and we’ve done everything together,” She laid her hands in her lap and I pulled one of my knees to my chest.

I hugged my leg and rested my head atop my kneecap, “What are the hours?” I asked and saw the gleam in Spencer’s eyes.

“8 to 4, so if you wanted, you could still have time to work at Neon?” She tilted her head to the side, smile so bright I almost wanted to squint at her.

“Okay, fine, weirdo.” I grinned and braced for impact when Spencer crawled towards me from the opposite side of the room and leaped into my body.

The impact caused me to let out an “oof!” and I hugged her back. Spencer helped me to my feet, all 5’10 of my stature towering over my friend who kept her hands on my shoulders then clapped those hands together. “I’ll come by tomorrow with all the paperwork, but be ready on Monday at 7:45, you know I hate to be late,” She nodded her head at me and exited my apartment soon after.

True to her word. Spencer was over the next day with a mountain of things for me to sign, she even came with her keycard maker so I could have access to my breakroom locker on my first day. We, of course, fought over which smolder of mine was the best one for my ID, but we settled on the smolder with the eyebrow quirk. I wasn’t the biggest fan of smiling. 

Again, true to her word, Spencer was outside my apartment at 7:45 in the morning on Monday. I had worn slacks, a regular crisp white button-up, and a black-tie, my hair was slicked back and my makeup consisted of the pink shimmer from my strawberry flavored Chapstick. Pulling on the satchel that I wore all through college and a blazer slightly too big for me, I allowed Spencer to take me from my apartment toward the glittering building that laid Diablo Publishing.

For the percentage of people who aren’t aware of Diablo Publishing, well, those are the heterosexuals. Diablo Publishing is the largest publishing company for the LGBTQ+ community. I read their books, Spencer read their books, half of the women’s lacrosse team at Mercy College in _Dobbs Ferry, New York_ read their books. The apartment I shared with Spencer during university was about 5 minutes from the huge building, I used to people watch all the time, seeing the majority of women walking in power suits in and out of the slate black windows and doors of the building. 

Now here I was, going into the dark building myself, following Spencer who smiled at the security guards and the receptionist she saw. Despite the black windows of the 10+ story building, the interior was filled with bright whites and grays. The workers seemed to dress in business attire, but guidelines surrounding tattoos and piercings weren’t followed, or just weren’t set in place. I washed a man with a sky-high mohawk enter the elevator, septum in his nose, and his hands having practically more ink than skin on them. 

Spencer and I occupied the elevator, she pressed the **B** button at the bottom of the row of buttons then stepped back. My own curiosity peaked, “B?” I questioned and Spencer gave me a look, a glimmer in her eyes I hadn’t ever seen to that extent. “B for basement silly,” she answered while slipping her phone in her pants pockets.

“Into the basement we go, I suppose,” I muttered and Spencer squealed beside me.

“That’s the spirit Val!” I had been joking, my optimism for the job extinguishing the minute I found out I’d be working in a basement. A hot, sweaty, gross, base-

Then the elevator doors opened. My animosity wiped away, the basement had the _Pimp My Ride_ experience. I was waiting for Xzibit to round the corner and talk about the crazy features in the building. First off, it was cool; the AC blasting as I assumed it was just installed or they had a really powerful unit. The floors were wooden, but a nice cool gray color, which went well with the off-white walls and black furniture. 

The cubicles all had standing and sitting desks, the chairs had the ability to extend backward and each computer was good in my eyes, though their quality warranted a comment from Spencer, and she went to school for Computer Science. 

Spencer stepped out of the elevator first, leading me through the basement.

“So, welcome to the Diablo Publishing mailroom,” She motioned around herself and grinned, it earned a smile from me as her enthusiasm for her job was infectious.

“What Zip Recruiter, Go Daddy, Indeed, and any other job-finding service doesn’t tell you about the Diablo Publishing mailroom is that we also triple for mechanical support-” Her hand motioned toward a wing of the basement, rows upon rows of tools one would use if they were handy laid out in the room. “-mechanical installation-” her hand remained near that wing of the building before she pivoted and walked toward the cubicles, “-And of course, technical support,” 

Spencer turned her hand and waved at a worker she recognized, one of her employees patting her on the back, so I assumed she was well respected at her job. Of course, knowing myself, I was going to use that fact to my advantage, I was all about doing as little effort as possible for the most amount of pay off. I’ve been called a leech, and I said thank you.

“Now Valerian, this is my mailroom, my workers, my ball game. I will fire you if you don’t pull your weight, I don’t have time for slacking, just because I’ve known you since I was 7, doesn’t put you ahead of any other workers in my book,” I laughed when Spencer said it, but quickly got serious.

_You’ve got to be fucking kidding me_

“Are you serious Spence?” I lowered my voice, as to not cause any more attention to myself.

“Yes I’m fucking serious Val! I’m sticking my neck out to get you a job here in the first place!” She responded loudly, and my eyes widened. Though I was a slacker, I didn’t want that to be people’s first impression of me, keeping your enemies close they say, I never knew when I might need some of these people in the basement. 

“Okay, I’m sorry, whatever you say I do. You say ‘jump’, and I say ‘how high.’” It was sincere, even my constant thirst to cheat the world and somehow end up on top couldn’t outweigh how grateful I was for Spence and the fact she had gotten me this job in the first place.

“Okay, I’m gonna get you started on some tangible totes, gonna get you moving up and down the floors of the building,” Spencer began and started walking toward a door of the mailroom.

I followed, because what the hell else was I supposed to do? 

We entered and I saw rows of lockers and scanners at each locker. Spencer broke out in technical jargon of the coding of each keycard, and it’s “unique,” “cutting edge,” “how the theft rate has plummeted since it’s been implemented,” things that made my ears burn and my eyes stare at the shorter Latina with a blank expression.

“You scan card, card only works for your locker.” Spencer dumbed it down for me, and I thanked her.

“You could’ve just said that-” I spoke while taking off my satchel and scanning my card for the designated locker Spencer had reserved for me and winced at the jab Spencer had landed in my ribs.

I laughed and rubbed the affected area then followed once more, Spencer leading toward the space beyond the cubicles. Pausing, Spencer fished into her blazer pocket and tossed me a pair of gloves, “Wear those” was all she said before we entered another room and mountains of brown boxes laid out.

Spencer walked toward one of the workers and patted them on the shoulder, I watched the exchange, and she graciously stepped back and allowed Spencer to take over. Spencer pointed to the large **NF** on the box, then rows of boxes on the conveyor belt then the 5 carts on wheels in front of the belt. 

“NF stands for Non-fiction, so place it in the non-fiction tote-” Spencer completed the task, placing the brown box in the NF cart.

Spencer grabbed another box, an **R** written on the front. “R is for romance,” She placed the box in the cart then motioned for me to stand where she stood. 

Spencer pointed at the steady flow of boxes coming down the conveyor belt, “M is for mystery, F is so fantasy, and E is for erotica, however-” she paused and waved her hand at the woman she had previously displaced to come back.

“This is Vivianne, she’ll be the one training you today,” The shorter, curvy woman with a blunt black bob, thick glasses, and gauges gave me a smile and I returned the action.

“Valerian-” Spencer looked at Vivianne, noting my name, then continued, “-Is going to be running today.” Vivianne nodded and I frowned, I hadn’t run in years.

“Running?” My curiosity peaked and Spencer began walking toward the door, leaving the workers in the cool warehouse to their own devices, “Vivianne will tell you!” she shouted at me as she stepped through the door and Vivianne smiled, well at least she seemed nice.

“Running is basically taking the totes here-” she motioned to the halfway full carts, “-And when they’re full, running the mail up to the appropriate levels on the floors.” I nodded, understanding.

“Will you join me as I run?” I asked and Vivianne shook her head, “Nope, I’ve got to sort the packages, though the other runners will be arriving the next 90 minutes or so,” she shrugged, looking apologetic while beginning to take the boxes from the conveyor belt and placing them into the totes.

So I helped her sort, then ran up the building with the carts. The mystery tote filled first, so I braced the elevator that ran off the side of the warehouse and traveled to the floor Vivianne had instructed me to reach. The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. I rolled the cart out, my shirt sleeves pushed up my forearms as my head swiveled, I looked around the floor, the desk in front of me empty, though it looked like there was supposed to be a worker positioned in front of the elevator for a reason.

I pushed the cart further, hearing the shrill “Excuse me?” behind me, I turned with the cart. A woman, redhead, neat bun in her hair, tight skirt, high heels, cute in a mean way. She stared at me, “Are you from the mailroom?” Her voice made me want to wince and I nodded.

“Well, why are _you_ trying to wander the floor?” The condescension cracked me like a whip.

My eyebrows twitched, fighting the frown I wanted to concede, but I smiled nonetheless. “Apologies Miss, it’s my first day and I didn’t see anyone around to direct me, perhaps you could help?” I smiled, my words like butter, and some of the venom left her features, she softened and nodded, my apology, or my face, being enough to calm her down. This _was_ an LGBTQ+ publishing company after all.

She helped me sort the mail and I left the packages outside the doors of the executives’ offices, then pushed the now empty cart back toward the elevator I came from and returned to the warehouse. Once I reached the warehouse again, I saw Vivianne giving me a sheepish look as she pointed at the filled totes for the Romance and Fantasy floors awaiting me. I gave her a look and she apologized, “The other runners are always late and you’re here, I promise I’m not trying to give you a hard time or anything, after this you’re scheduled for a break,” she spoke quickly, clearing feeling bad for her actions, and my frown lessened.

“Thank you,” I was genuine, then took the romance tote and rode back up the elevator. While in the shuttle I check my watch, 9:30 am, I was floored at the fact I had already been working for more than an hour, but I stayed on my feet and kept it pushing, not wanting to let Spencer down.

I got my break when I finished my last tote, the backup runners arrived as I exited the warehouse, sweaty, and walked toward the breakroom with the lockers. I drained 2 water bottles, had one of the instant meals in the fridge, and sat on one of the couches, stretching in my seat and recognizing the soreness in my out-of-shape body. I sat for my entire 20-minute break then walked back out to the warehouse. I checked my watch, 11:10 am, Vivianne let me know I’d go for my hour lunch at 1 pm.

Vivianne greeted me and noted the runners had taken the already filled totes, she tossed a final box into the erotica cart and looked at me, “But this one’s all yours,” she grinned and I wryly returned the action.

The erotica genre was the top floors of Diablo Publishing, the genre seemed to bring in the most revenue and success of the 5 they featured in. When the doors slid open, the feeling of unmistakable anger hit me, I even gripped the sides of the tote in my hands a little harder than necessary.

This didn’t make sense, sure I was a little irritated that the other runners showed up late, but I was looking forward to my lunch, probably going to eat some ill-advised street tacos, maybe even some horchata, I was excited.

 _Insolent, motherfucking incompetent, pieces of horseshit_

Woah. That wasn’t my voice in my head. 

I mean, I talked to myself, but I was positive the voice was always mine, and I had a slew of other problems, but illnesses surrounding voices in my head? I was grateful to not add that to my list.

I paused in my step, the receptionist near the elevator door giving me a quizzical look, one that probably mimicked the one my face was displaying at the moment.

 _Idiots, all of them, fucking idiots_

It was back. The voice, unmistakably female, but not my own.

_Yes I just said that you fucking moron_

Ignored it this time, motioning to the packages, and the receptionist stood from her desk and smiled.

“You’re new aren’t you?” Her height rivaled my own in her heels, mocha-colored skin, with a head of curls on her head, deep brown eyes that pierced my own. Damn, was every girl at this job hot?

“Uh- yes, I’m Valerian.” I introduced myself and she smiled, “Tiana, welcome to the erotica floor, our executives are in a meeting, but you can definitely delegate those packages out.

I nodded, thanked the pretty woman, and continued walking, taking each package from the tote and placing them outside the office numbers.

 _Idiots!_ I jumped at the sudden increase in volume in my head and I looked around the floor, making sure no one else heard what I had just heard.

 _What? just because I don’t have a fucking penis doesn’t mean I can’t produce the same work as you_ Whoever the voice was, she was going off. 

_You’re dead to me Todd_ Haha, yeah, fuck you Todd. I smiled at my own thought and placed a package down, hearing gasp in my head.

 _What?_ The voice spoke out, did she hear me-

Holy shit.

 _What?!_ the voice echoed, the word now a little desperate, I wanted to ease their anguish, maybe let them know that I could hear them.

So, I thought about Neon, and spinning records. Then my thoughts turned to playing lacrosse, the adrenaline rush of being on the field. My own heart rate picked up at the nostalgia and the gasp echoed once more.

 _Why am I breathing so heavy, why I do I feel energized, do I smell… grass?_ I damn near dropped the package in my hand at the woman’s words.

Then suddenly, the anger filled me again, a white-hot rage that made me want to punch a hole in the glass walls of the erotica floor. I continued with my work, a frown set in my features as my emotions fluctuated. I realize, they weren’t my own emotions, they were hers, flying through me.

I wanted to talk to her, so I tried, as mightily as I could I focused on the sound of her voice in my head, the anger I felt, the emotions that I’m sure weren’t mine, those words that weren’t said and weren’t my own.

 _You know I can hear everything you’re thinking?_ That was my voice, reaching out to her. 

Maybe I didn’t do it right? Maybe I had messed up? Maybe all my drinking back in the day is coming to haunt me?

This is stupid, I can’t believe this. My own thoughts ran like a freight train, and I continued my work, my head quiet for a moment.

 _It’s not stupid_ She returned, her thoughts apprehensive, as if she couldn’t believe it either.

 _You can hear me?_ I clarified again, the silence after my response killing me.

 _Yes, and you can hear me?_ she clarified back and I nodded, then realized she couldn’t see me and slapped my forehead a few times.

 _Hello?_ Her voice reached out again, as I self-flagellated and realized my error. 

“She can’t hear you dumbass,” I muttered out loud to myself and tried to respond again.

 _Shit, sorry, and yes I hear you, crystal clear_ I responded back. Then it was quiet.

It was quiet when I finished my work on the erotica floor and rode back down to the warehouse, waving to Tiana for good measures then seeing Vivianne as I reached the bottom. I kept working, remnants of the anger I once felt still flowing through my system; she was there, she just wasn’t talking to me. Though the belief that it was some sort of fluke began to circulate in my head. I couldn’t help the doubt.

“But why?” I muttered under my breath, wanting to articulate it more in my head, but I had a feeling the woman would probably hear it.

“Huh?” Vivianne voiced back, our proximities close enough where she could hear my mumbling.

“Nothing, sorry,” I backpedaled quickly and worked with an empty head and without another word until lunch. 

I smiled at the options I couldn’t help but ponder on. Manhattan style pizza? Street tacos? Maybe even as gourmet of ramen I could get for $25?

 _Get the ramen, you’re making me hungry_ She was back, and I smiled at her, though no one else could hear it, I probably looked crazy.

 _Ramen it is_ I responded and left Diablo Publishing for lunch with Spencer.

“What’s on the menu Val?” She asked as we exited onto the street, loosening my tie and I stretched my neck to each side.

“In the mood for ramen?” I couldn’t help but grin as I spoke as well.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, what is up with that scar? I say that knowing exactly what is up with that scar, but I digress...
> 
> Spencer's definitely a ray of sunshine in this one, it was completely unintentional but I don't regret it.
> 
> Yes, Diablo Publishing is filled with nothing but hot women, and I don't hear you complaining about it either. My way, the highway.
> 
> As always, I'd love for some comments, kudos, I love this story, let me know If my DJing descriptions aren't too gratuitous with the buzzwords, I did some researching, but you know, I am human.
> 
> Thank you once again for reading, and stayed tuned for Nyota p.o.v. because we're getting ready to get into that genius' head, mhm, yes we are.


	3. Chapter 2: Platinum Spoon In My Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My parents deny the claims, always telling me to “cling onto my Polish roots” but clearly my grandfather had to let go of those same roots if he wanted to roll in riches in the manner he did during his lifetime."
> 
> _Or..._
> 
> We learn about our little genius. Insert your favorite blonde, Polish, big tiddy, prodigy.
> 
> oh yeah, someone's _also_ in her fucking head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup peoples? I know, it's been a few weeks, I had A LOT going on. But good news.
> 
>  _I quit my fucking job ayeeeeeeeeeee_
> 
> More free time, more time to write about women who are going to be in lesbians who are also sharing a mind link :)
> 
> But yes, I went heavier on the exposition surrounding Nyota as a character, her backstory is more complete than Valerian's and I left as such for a reason. Also, towards the end, is that... an attraction I smell...? 
> 
> Of course it is, it's my story.
> 
> Alrighty, once again I'd appreciate any feedback, comments, kudos, maybe even a bookmark, let me know if you're ready to join me on this ride.
> 
> Ok, I'm done.
> 
> Enjoy xx

_**Nyota** _

“Nyota, sit up in your chair, you look like the letter ‘S’” My father, so graciously put in my head, as a 5-year-old. There wasn’t much one could do to have a say in the illustrious Hawthorne estate; home of Maximillian and Guinevere, with me being the “shining light” in the family.

I was born into old money, a jewelry business from my great-great-great-grandfather, in Poland, some lineages ago. My grandfather, Izydor Slepicka, married an Anglo-Saxon woman, Lilian Hawthorne. He changed his name to David and adopted the Hawthorne name subsequently. My parents deny the claims, always telling me to “cling onto my Polish roots” but clearly my grandfather had to let go of those same roots if he wanted to roll in riches in the manner he did during his lifetime. 

Luckily for us (or whatever), he was smart with his money, and he passed the wealth down to my great-great-grandfather, Lance, then my great-grandfather Robert, my grandfather William, and finally to the present-day Hawthorne’s, Maximillian and Guinevere. I was born into old money, I was born with a platinum spoon in my mouth, and I didn’t really care about it. 

I didn’t care because I had a lot of things going on the second I was born, and I _really_ mean the second I was born too. Not to say I have an eidetic memory, but the haze surrounding my first years of life, even times before I had even aged a year, were significantly more clear than the average person. I was potty-trained at 4 months because I didn’t like the feeling of the maids in my home cleaning me up, I figured out the mechanism of walking around 6 months, even came with my first words, which were “I had an accident, please assist me” it sent the head maid in our family, Sooah, into a tailspin. 

My family dubbed me the “Hawthorne Prodigy” boasting at my 4 years of age that I was going to be one of the smartest women to ever live. I hated the pressure. Despite the brains I had, they still didn’t help me conquer the feat of making friends. Though I’m not sure if any person could stomach the task of trying to befriend the young girls within the top 10% of the United States, it was torture. As I aged, it didn’t get much better, at 8, when I was at the education level of a sophomore in high school, was when the whispering began between the girls I was forced to grow up with. 

It never made sense to me, to insult someone based on their intellect, but the lackluster insults flew, “Freak” was my favorite because of what it entailed. My intellect, a trait pre-determined by the ancestors in my family who gave me these extraordinary smarts, made me so intimidating and untouchable for the other girls that were my age, that they dumbed down my intelligence to a word that describes something unusual and unexpected. It was not an insult to me, being called a freak was something I embraced.

Of course, at 8-years-old the girls I grew up with expected tears to come from my eyes, maybe even an insult back, or for me tell my parents that I’m being ridiculed and bullied for being smart. I did nothing of the sort, I used to stare at the girls that insulted me, blank-faced, and I would just _watch_ as their skin began to crawl.

I was born in Manhattan, but we moved to our family home in Scarsdale, New York soon afterward. I never acquired an East Coast accent like my father or mother because they had me switching from our “primary” home in Scarsdale to the “secondary” home in the Beverly Hills, though the homes were each over 4,000 sq. ft in size. I never appreciated the wealth enough for my parents; my clothes were too common, I always hated our extravagant vacations, I never got along with the “good people” our family was associated with. My head was in a book at all times, and when it wasn’t, I noticed things that any normal adolescent would miss.

One time, uncharacteristically, a particular insult, aimed at my nonexistent breasts at age 10 and lack of a menstrual cycle, really ticked me off. So I told Susanne Montgomery (my nemesis at the time) that her father had been cheating on her mother for 3 years with another man. She called me stupid, though I was nothing of the sort, then a few days later her parents separated and subsequently divorced. I had noticed it at 7-years-old when her father, Grant, had left his phone idle on our coffee table, I was on the couch marking up my worn-down copy of War and Peace when the contact **Ashley** kept lighting up on the screen.

Now this name meant nothing to me at the time, the texts were lewd, but their subject matter and stylization lacked a feminine element. Then the realization dawned on me that Grant was in fact a misogynist and his lifestyle lacked estrogen beside his bratty daughter and wife that belittled him, he sought the comfort of men. Grant was, of course, within the “good people” my family associated with. Then I held onto the revelation as ammunition if the right moment were to rise. When the moment came, when Maximillian told me to apologize to Susanne, I told him it wouldn’t be necessary.

My father asked me why I didn’t want to make amends with Susanne, and I told him it was because I didn’t feel bad about what I told her. 

I hit 11 years old, graduated from high school, and paved my way to NYU.

NYU was a prestigious enough university to ease my parents. They wanted me at an Ivy, though I was accepted into Yale, Brown, Columbia, and Dartmouth, I chose NYU because I actually liked New York. I liked the cut-throat culture, the food, the fact Sooah would take me for walks on the street and I’d see the real world, and not the one my parents forced me to live in. However, going to lectures as an 11-year-old was a form of medieval torture in my eyes. I had gotten braces, my breasts _still_ hadn’t shown up, and I had frightened my mother when I happily let her know that I had started my period weeks before my fall classes were to begin. On top of being an 11-year-old in the undergraduate program, I was also a double-major, in Literature and Creative Writing, two things my parents had deemed useless. 

I didn’t do it to spite them, I read on average 48 books a year since the age of 8, and I had a keen eye for superb story-telling, and for mere shits and giggles as an 11-year-old I anonymously published some of my freeform poetry and it went viral. My interest in reading and writing, and lack of interest in business and things to “carry on the esteemed Hawthorne name” as my father puts it, was very unnerving for Maxmillian and Guinevere. I ruined their plans for me.

At 14, 3 years into my undergraduate, puberty _finally_ began rearing its head for me. My breasts identified themselves, then continued to identify themselves. Then I grew, shooting up past my mother’s 5’3” stature, and looking down at her not just from a morality stand-point but a physical one as well at my 5’7” height. The ridicule I faced from the affluent bubble I grew up in shifted from catty remarks of Susanne Montgomery and her group of carbon copy trust fund kids to the promise of Maximillian and Guinevere offering me a position at Hawthorne & Co. when I completed my undergraduate.

The offer was there when I began my degree, my parents wanted me to carry on the Hawthorne name, pledge myself in the long line of employees and enter corporate America by the time I turned 15. My answer remained the same all four of my undergraduate- no. I wasn’t interested in jewelry but I especially wasn’t interested in becoming a business shark as my father intended me to be.

Then at 14, I made my first real friend and rebelled even further from my parents. 

~

With Sooah accompanying me, we continued on our regular walks throughout the city during my junior year of college. My fascination had moved from the culture of New York to its people, I began to adore the street performers. 

One fateful morning, Sooah and I observed a dance studio originating in Scarsdale, in the city performing for a charitable contribution. I had asked Sooah to stop, and I watched the girls, some looked my age, others looked a few years my senior. But one, in particular, stood out to me. The other girls, white, prim, and proper, grew up like me, with the same privilege as me. This girl, not just for her race, or the deep-brown tendrils of curls that she had wrapped up to mimic the other ones in her troupe, her face seemed genuine, despite the New York winter, and her thin clothing, her smile never left her face as she danced for the onlookers like myself. She seemed like she just wanted to perform.

Sooah, who I also considered my friend but also the guiding hand that was leading me through adolescence and my young-adulthood, always noticed the tells in my usual stoic expression.

“Talk to her Nyota,” Sooah’s calm voice echoed through the morning air on the semi-busy sidewalk.

I side-eyed her, Sooah’s naturally whimsical expression ignited even more when she was able to draw emotions out of me, even if it was slight irritation.

“They are based in Scarsdale, you live in Scarsdale-” Sooah’s heavily accented voice flew into my ears as she put her gloved hands on her face, like a Home Alone allusion as her eyebrows shot up in feigned shock.

“I think it is meant to be Nyota,” One hand over her mouth, Sooah looked at me with conviction, practically willing me to move as my eyes moved to the dance troupe, they were in an intermission, each girl drinking water and some of them huddling around the propane heater as their sponsor was occupied on her phone.

Sooah’s gentle, but assertive, elbow to my back was the killing blow. I moved, brushing a strand of my father’s golden blonde hair behind my ear, though I was wearing a hat, the action wasn’t logical but like any other person with flesh and blood, I did things that didn’t make sense when I was pushed from my comfort zone. It seemed, however, with the elevated intellect, that when I became victim to doing something that stayed from logical reasoning, my thoughts didn’t whisper about the nonsensical way in which I was conducting myself. 

No, the thoughts _yelled, cried, screamed, hollered, wailed_ at me to correct myself.

So I did, pulled my hand from my hair, cerulean eyes on the dirty sidewalk. I took a step.

A single one. It was good for me. I was shit with people.

The girl was on her phone, curls still spilling out from the wrap as she brushed them from her eyes.

Another step. A bigger one, I mentally patted myself on the back. 

I could practically _hear_ Sooah mentally cheering me on.

Third step. Biggest one. I could see the exact color of the honey in her eyes. The exact taupe color in her complexion. Her skin was flawless, lips full, nose petite, body framed curved, and muscled. She was older than me, for that, I was sure about.

Fourth step. Now I’m in front of her. What do I do? 

“You’re based in Scarsdale?” I didn’t even recognize my voice. It was tame, domestic. Usually, I spoke with venom, always on the defense from my parent’s accusatory remarks about my future and how I wanted to throw it all away. 

She looked up at me from her phone. Our heights were identical, the same playing field, though I still felt like she was towering over me. Intellect advantage or not this girl seemed sure of herself, whereas I was only sure of the versing in iambic pentameter, or memorizing the works of Kurt Vonnegut.

“Yeah, but I live in Tarrytown, Scarsdale is a little out of my parent’s league, they already pay a lot for me to dance-” She stopped, but she could’ve continued. I would’ve listened, it was nice to speak to someone out of the bubble I had been in for so long.

“You’re from Scarsdale aren’t you?” She asked me, her head cocked to the side, mouth set in a knowing smirk.

I stammered. I didn’t know why, damn my thoughts for screaming at me to just articulate something back, making it simple for me, but my lips didn’t move.

“Mhm-” I settled, physically cringing and she noticed, but didn’t say anything about it.

“Um, this is going to sound lame-” I didn’t know what I was doing, but my mouth was moving, and my thoughts were only getting louder and louder, telling me to _**abort**_ but I couldn’t stop.

“I actually came over here to ask if you wanted to be friends. I don’t really talk to people much, I don’t care for Scarsdale either and-” I stopped when a flood of emotions washed over her face, it looked like empathy.

“What’s your name?” her expression settled on neutrality, I figured honesty was the best option here.

“Nyota Hawthorne,” I spoke then studied her. Her face gave no answer, then her eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed, and she blinked and held her eyelids shut for a moment too long to be organic- recognition.

“The Prodigy,” She answered back and I couldn’t fight the frown, I opened my mouth to say something but she beat me to it.

“You’re hard to find on the internet, what is it- a 135 IQ or something? Good thing I don’t judge a person based on their family history or where their roots are- I’m Jasmine Radan, classical ballerina, and future inductee and alumni of The Juilliard School,” She beamed and my spirits lifted again.

“My IQ is 155, but it’s nice to meet you,” I attempted a smile, and as her smile widened impossibly further and it seemed to work in my favor.

Friends don’t seem so bad for me anymore.

_**9 Years Later** _

“God, I am going to _fucking_ skin Todd alive and leave his highly infected corpse for vultures,” The door slammed to the shared penthouse Jasmine and I lived in.

“Good afternoon to you too,” She made a quizzical face at me, then proceeded to adjust on her yoga mat and slip into the peacock pose with minimal effort.

The penthouse was a 7-minute walk from Diablo Publishing, the place that was supposed to be my dream job when I turned 18 and _not_ the place for impotent goblins like Todd to mansplain my tasks and duties to me. 

I scaled my way up that job for 2 hard years. Granted, it was only a fraction of the time that it took most executives for each of the floors to earn their seat, but my writing and my eye for good literature had paid off for the past 5 years I had been employed, and the past 3 years I was lead editor of Erotica.

The writers I found, ghostwriters I hunted down, my editing, and my gut instinct had led to the majority of the flagship erotica stories being published. I was a quality worker, a hard worker, I didn’t cut corners when I first started out, or simply weasel my own material to my superiors at the time. My time came to show the right people my writing and my success had come from that.

 _Hey, are you the reason why I’ve been mysteriously pissed all damn day?_ There it came. My anger laid a smokescreen over the unexplainable voice that had been in my head and had caused the visceral sounds of pulsating club-like kick drums and the smell of grass that felt too complex even for my comprehension.

 _I suppose so._ I was dejected, tired, I needed to talk it out with Jasmine and not worry about the woman that I was in my head.

 _Is it about Todd?_ The voice returned, void of any real recognition, only seeming to be recalling from when I was blowing up at him at work today.

 _Indeed, he seems to be testing my limits, hopefully, he understands that comes with humiliation and dire consequences._ I smiled at the thought. Never one to weaponize my intelligence, but he wasn’t fully aware of where my mind could go, and how much I could find out about him if I just glanced _that_ much deeper. 

_Well, the anger is dissipating, and now I just have to get over the crippling fear that there’s a serial killer in my head. Great._ Sarcasm. I wasn’t a huge fan of its use.

 _Sass?_ I returned. The question, of course, rhetoric. But amusement that I’m sure wasn’t my own occupied my emotions.

 _Indeed._ Her word choice and tone were indicative of my mine earlier. She seemed to be skilled at getting under my skin. I didn’t appreciate it.

My frown deepened and I stomped through my penthouse, focusing on not letting anything leak through to her. More amusement filled me from my silence. She left me alone however, though I supposed I’d never really be alone anymore if she was here to stay within my head. I wasn’t sure if I was excited by the thought or terrified. 

I didn’t understand the guidelines to this link the two of us had, I didn’t know her name, I wasn’t positive if I wanted to, I could easily train myself to no longer cope mentally, to physically voice all my dejections and problems. The muscle memory would develop and I’d never have to hear from the sickeningly charming and positively feminine voice inside my head ever again. However, that wasn’t to say that _she_ would cope, I could remain silent and she could let things slip through the cracks, I could learn everything about her. My head was my sanctuary, a place where I kept valuable information, it was my salvation.

This woman was an intruder to that, I didn’t know how to make her leave but I was positive I didn’t want her to stay.

“Nyota? You look constipated, something bothering you?” Jasmine’s voice rippled through my inner monologue, something I once again wasn’t sure if she could hear. She stood from her mat, oversized t-shirt hanging off a shoulder, with grey leggings on, and tiny beads of sweat on her temples I recognized as she approached me.

I had set my purse on the marble counter in our kitchen, I hadn’t realized it but I was also white-knuckling the edge of said counter.

 _Fuck, poor counter._ I mistakenly thought and immediately noted my error.

I physically winced, but relaxed when her voice didn’t echo, not a peep was heard from the other side.

Then I damn near jumped out of my skin when Jasmine laid her hand on my shoulder.

“Jesus! Fuck-!” I panted, released the counter, and laid my palms flat on the surface, groaning, the sound coming out gravelly.

Jasmine rubbed my back, her presence calming me, she was such a good friend. Her long spindly-like fingers occupied the top of my shoulder to the junction that connected it to my neck, then back down. The same continuous motion, again, and again. Jasmine knew how much I loved consistency; repetition, rhythm, things that began and ended, they were satisfying and satiated my pent up nerves.

I let out the shaky breath I didn’t know I had begun to hold as Jasmine and I stood in our shared kitchen in silence. I picked my head up, brushed a golden blonde lock behind my ear, my hair now fell in waves, the tendrils reaching past my shoulders to approach the upper region of my back, I wanted to smile when I remember Jasmine convincing me to finally chop my ass-level hair to my shoulders around a year ago. My eyes finally reached Jasmine’s honey brown ones and she arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me.

Her touch continued while she uttered, “You want me to run you a bath while we talk about it?” 

I nodded, the idea sounding heavenly.

~

That’s exactly what we did, about 10 minutes later I sat in the large clawfoot tub in my bathroom, my breasts hidden by the bubbles Jasmine prepped the bath with. The emergency bath was something Jasmine and I did for each other if one of us appeared incredibly stressed. 

My fear of being seen naked around Jasmine dissipated by the time I turned 16, Jasmine was 18, and we were two years into our friendship. Jasmine wasn’t modest, our first sleepover almost ended abruptly when after my bathroom break I turned Jasmine’s doorknob to find my friend completely topless and changing into her pajamas. I wanted to end the sleepover as I recall I had told her I, “completely invaded her privacy and have formally disrupted the boundaries of friendship,” 

When Jasmine finally stopped laughing at me I realized that friends can be close enough to see each other naked and not find it weird.

Now at 23, and Jasmine’s 25, we had each seen each other in countless compromising positions.

I no longer thought it was weird.

I didn’t think it was weird when we began to give each other emergency baths either. 

It started 4 years ago, Jasmine had rolled her ankle during a rehearsal and had limped into our tiny apartment sobbing so hard I thought she’d pass out. It was instinctual really, I had gotten Jasmine out of her tights, wrestled off her duffle bag, and damn near carried her to the bathroom where I ran her a bath and rubbed her back the entire time. I listened to her mutter about the pressures of her final recital, her final year at Juilliard, how the injury made her feel mortal, we talked it over and she healed.

Then it just became an unspoken thing between us.

Now I sat in the tub, knees to my chest as I rested my head on them. Jasmine was perched on a tiny stool next to the bath with a small bucket to wet my hair as she bathed me, I let out a shuddering breath every time she poured the water over my scalp, the waves sending shivers down my spine.

 _Are you okay? I’m feeling… I’m not sure, but I know it isn’t me._ She returned.

I didn’t have the energy to fight her, to try and decode what it meant, why we were linked, why I felt things that clearly didn’t belong to my psyche.

“Stop…” I whispered, defeated. I knew she couldn’t hear it.

Jasmine did. “Hmm?” She was patient, then I realized those were the first words I had uttered since I sat down in the tub and allowed myself to be comforted.

 _I’m just trying to figure this out._ I couldn’t even fight the dispirit in my tone.

 _You know you don’t have to be alone for that? We’re together, like this, for a reason. I think it’s something we should figure out together._ She responded back. I sagged further in the bath. I hated it because it made sense. 

_Yeah, well, I’ve figured mostly everything else out in my life on my own, despite you being my head, I don’t need you._ I shot back. It was childish, I knew it, I wanted it to hurt because for once in my life something I didn’t have an answer to what was looking me right in the face.

“Nyota, what happened with Todd?” Jasmine’s calm voice filled the large bathroom and I picked my head slightly.

Our gazes met and I frowned, “Misogyny,” was what I came up with.

 _Ouch._ her voice came back and I winced, because I could _feel_ my rejection, my stubbornness, the pain I was giving her, only reflected back onto me because we shared thoughts and emotions.

Jasmine saw me wince and her head cocked to the side, “You just did it again,” She noted.

“Did what again?” I played dumb. Foolishly keeping our gazes locked as Jasmine searched my face, sleuthing for any of my tells. 

_I know you can feel my pain. I’m not one to roll over, fucking hump your leg, and beg to be accepted. I go against the grain, and this right here? I know it’s not something to just understand, so maybe if you stopped sucking your own dick, we could try and figure this out._ Her words cracked like a whip. The pain I felt was replaced by anger, irritation, it wasn’t too strong, but it was simmering.

“Bitch,” I muttered aloud about her arrogance and Jasmine’s mouth dropped, I cursed again at my error.

“Not you!” I tried to recover and reached one of my hands out from the bathwater and gripped Jasmine’s arm. She eyed me warily.

“What’s going on?” Her tone held no room for questioning, for me to feign innocence or even stupidity.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” I felt like the 14-year old I was when I met her. Starved for any sort of acceptance or approval.

“I promise Nyota-” She touched my back again and her face instantly grew alarmed, “Jesus- you’re trembling, is the water too cold? I can drain the tub and get you some blankets-” She stopped when I made eye contact with her.

“It’s… not me,” I muttered, willing her to understand. The anger was rolling in waves, my body shook to control it, but it seemed this woman had just about as much rage as I had this morning.

“What do you mean it’s not you? It’s your skin trembling Nyota… Or is this what you’re trying to tell me?” Jasmine attempted to deduce and my eyes shut again as more of her fury filled me.

I wanted to hit something, yell, scream at the nearest person. It felt like anger but it was amplified somehow, like the link between made our emotions that much more potent and volatile.

“This morning, during my meeting with the other execs. Todd was, of course, questioning my leadership, my choices as an editor, and obviously trying to piggyback off of my ideas for our latest Newsletter at Diablo,” I got out, panting at this point, shaking my head at the coils of rage that seemingly were springing themselves in my psyche, willing me to be affected and making me a slave of my feelings.

“Okay…” Jasmine drew out, and I gripped the tub, letting out another shuddering breath as more of the rage came.

 _Fucking hell, let up why don’t you?_ I pleaded with her and some of the emotions fell back. Something shifted in my chest, I felt smug, and I knew I wasn’t the originator.

 _Only just a taste of what I felt this morning, white-hot anger filled me, confused me, and all I wanted were answers, but instead, I got a bitch in my head with a fucking attitude._ I didn’t know how I knew, but she sneered after she thought it.

I stopped shaking, though her arrogance was making me its bitch. 

“Nyota?” Jasmine questioned further, and admittedly it was easier to talk to her about the woman in my head without the crippling anger I had just felt.

“So-” I swallowed hard, the click audible in my throat, “The meeting presumed, of course, I was pissed, cussing up a storm in my head, calling Todd every name in the book, but then, I heard a voice-” I looked at Jasmine, she seemed cautious, but nodded for me to continue.

“It was a woman, I don’t know her name, what she’s about but she told me she heard everything I had thought about Todd, and that she could feel my anger in herself, like it transferred, like-”

“You two were connected in a way?” Jasmine tried to finish for me and I nodded.

The smugness washed away into neutrality as her presence had left me. But I knew she was still there.

Jasmine got me out of the bath, toweled me down, then ran and flopped onto my bed as I exited my en-suite bathroom, dressed in a long t-shirt and panties. I sat on the bed, looking at Jasmine who wrapped herself in the plethora of blankets on my king-sized bed. She huffed out a breath and looked at me, lacing our fingers, “What happened next? At least after the Todd situation?” her voice was soft.

“You believe me?” My own words were incredulous, and Jasmine cast me a knowing glance.

“You needed an emergency bath because of how hard that big brain of yours was trying to decode what’s happened to you, of course, I believe you Ny,” Jasmine was honest, genuine. 

“Well, then we chatted some more, clarified that we were indeed in each other’s heads, then I had to give my presentation during the meeting and left her alone for a while. It seems our control over what leaks into the link still needs to be defined, because I heard her contemplating on what she was going to eat for lunch, as if she had forgotten that I was there,” I shrugged and felt Jasmine’s thumb running over the back of my hand; repetition led to my relaxation.

“Or maybe she was trying to bait you into responding? I mean, if I could explicitly talk to someone in my head I’d be trying to exploit that opportunity every chance I got, to at least have some chance at understanding where the guidelines were,” Jasmine was nonchalant but her words made me flinch, my hand twitched and her eyes flicked up to meet mine, I actively avoided her gaze. 

“Nyota… Did I say something wrong?” Jasmine was careful in her tone, and I sucked in a breath and then released it slowly.

“No, that makes sense, but she suggested that-” I tried to get out but Jasmine beat me to the punch.

“Oh great, then you two will be able to figure this out?” She questioned me and I pressed my lips together, sighing once again.

“Okay- I may have told her that I didn’t need her help to figure this out-” I barely got it out before Jasmine wrenched her hand from mine, gasping.

“Nyota!” She laid a swift slap on my thigh and I gasped, “Ow!” I exclaimed, she ignored me.

“Apologize, right now. Is that the reason you were shaking? Was that her?” Jasmine only seemed to rile her own self up, sitting up fully on my bed, facing me. “Yeah, I would’ve been pissed too if the person I’m sharing a consciousness with has no interest in trying to figure out said consciousness,” Jasmine mimicked her frustration with my actions with her hands as she spoke and I sighed, again.

“Jasmine, she was being rude, she called me a bitch and told me to stop sucking my own dick!” I spoke, exasperated, hoping she’d take my side. 

Jasmine shook her head, not having any of my shit, “No, you started it, she ended it. Good on her for putting you in your place, you can’t figure this out on your own and you know that. Fix it, right now,” She folded her arms and looked at me expectantly.

 _Hey, I’m sorry_ It was meek, the equivalent of a heterosexual male apology, but at least I said something.

“I said, do something about it-” Jasmine tried and I ran a hand through my damp hair and groaned.

“I did it! Okay?” I looked at her and Jasmine beamed, “Good, you finally listened to me,” She flopped back on my bed, her inquisition over subsequently from my compliance.

 _For what exactly?_ She responded and I sucked my teeth, pushing back the retort I wanted to use.

 _For being an ass, trying to figure this out on my own._ I clarified for her.

 _Well, I thank the person who talked you into apologizing. So, you’ve told someone about our little arrangement?_ She moved on so quickly, but I was floored at her deduction.

My eyebrows furrowed and Jasmine looked at me questioningly, “Are you two talking?” she pressed, but I held up my hand, trying to formulate a response.

 _How did you know it was someone else?_ My voice was a little weaker than I had intended, my underestimation of her was clear.

 _You told me already. You said you got through your life on your own, I didn’t think you’d come up with the conclusion that we needed to work together on this until after some serious trials and tribulations. But, you have someone close enough to tell about me, and they probably sided with me because they realized you were being a thundercunt-_ She stopped talking, probably to laugh at me.

 _But thank you for the apology, let’s keep each other in the loop until the weekend then we can test it out._ A little bit of giddiness filled me, it was her excitement, I groaned at the thought.

 _It?_ I attempted to clarify.

 _Don’t think I didn’t feel that wave of negativity. But it means this, us, you and I talking to each other without physically talking to each other._ She seemed confident so I conceded.

 _Alright, until this weekend. But one question, however._ I couldn’t help but try and satiate my curiosity about her.

 _Shoot_ She responded back and I flinched at the slang, leaning down to lay beside Jasmine who had quieted throughout our silent exchange.

 _What do I call you?_ I boldly asked and a few beats of silence filled me.

 _Do you want my name?_ She asked me, and I realized that I didn’t.

Her voice wasn’t recognizable, I didn’t know her, but I didn’t want to know her name on the off chance that I could commence an extensive internet dive and find out everything there was to know about her. Finding out about her, social media, how she presented to the world, just what she looked like, it still felt too real for me, I wanted to keep her a secret, my secret.

 _No, do you have a nickname or something?_ I was curt but effective.

 _Yes, but you can call me by the first letter of my name, and I’ll do the same for you?_ Another good idea. Couldn’t get more broad than a single letter.

 _Yes, okay, sounds good_ I answered then waited, in utter silence.

Jasmine stirred next to me and I realized she had dozed off. I was stuck with the volume in my head and she sat in silence. 

_Well?_ I asked her, impatience setting in. 

_Do you know what it’s like to wait?_ I heard her laugh, _Ladies first_ her voice dipped when she spoke in my head. Rolled like thick caramel down my spine, my eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, it was so smooth, so rich, and unmistakably feminine.

 _Call me N._ Remembering our rule, my voice fluttered a bit, I knew she could tell, the slight satisfaction that filled my chest was indicative of that.

 _Alright, you may call me V._ The same richness in her voice returned, I sucked in another breath and let it out slowly. 

We both decided on silence as the satisfaction wittered into neutrality and I elbow Jasmine. She peeked open an eye and slung a hand across my waist, facing each other, her breaths hitting my face.

“Did it go well?” She was fighting sleep, but it still warmed my heart that she cared enough to ask me, knowing it’d ease my nerves.

“Yes, her name- well- what I can call her is V,” I swallowed after speaking, unconsciously biting my lip, remembering the smoothness of her voice, how I could hear a smile when she spoke to me.

 _Sweet dreams N._ My arms erupted in goosebumps at V’s words. It was courteous, but she was still arrogant, still capable of getting on my nerves, her voice shouldn’t impact me so much.

“Good for you two,” Jasmine groggily spoke before closing her eyes once again and tugged me close to her. I smiled and wrapped my own arm around her midsection.

 _Goodnight V._ I made sure to tell her before I drifted off.

~


	4. Chapter 3: Sexually Stunted 17 Year-Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "But it’s 3:14 AM and I have Frankie pressed firmly against the door of my apartment, lips locked, my hands on her ass, her hands in my hair as we battled for control of the kiss."
> 
> _Or..._
> 
> Valerian is a responsible adult, who needs sex. Sometimes she forgets that she shares an entire consciousness with someone else while she's having sex, sometimes she thinks about the person she shares the consciousness with more than the actual person that she's fucking.
> 
> A useless lesbian who can pull ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!
> 
> This one right here...? Well, I rated it E for a reason, that's all I'll say.
> 
> Back to some Val p.o.v I lay out more of the mechanics of the mind link between her and Nyota, it's an informative chapter but nonetheless still fairly entertaining and fun to write.
> 
> I listen to cumbias all the time, and the song that plays in the club _slaps_ so if you want to listen to La Sonora Dinamita’s _Mi Cucu_ to get in the mood for that particular scene, be my guest. 
> 
> There is some #smut at the end, my first time actually writing it, I read a lot of erotica on my own so I took elements of what I like to see and implemented it, hopefully, it's not terrible, but you guys can let me know what to add to make the sex scenes better.
> 
> Once again, I'd love for some feedback, I literally ran around my house when I found out someone had bookmarked this story, I check in on my hits, bookmarks, and kudos all the time. So, if anyone leaves a comment I love to see it because I really like to understand that there are people out here reading my stuff and actually enjoying the story I'm putting together. I love any type of feedback, but I'll shut up and let you get on with this chapter now,
> 
> Oh yeah, slight warning for a little gore in this chapter, it's nothing freakishly graphic but it is there. 
> 
> Enjoy xx

_**Valerian** _

_Come on N, try it again._ I encouraged my counterpart.

 _No, fuck you, this isn’t working._ She shot back at me.

 _C’mooooooon._ I purposely elongated, trying to persuade her.

The sigh she let out in my head was tremendous, I had half the mind to snark back at her, it was fun (and fucking easy) to get under N’s skin.

 _Okay, okay, I’m trying again, just give me a fucking second._ Her voice was serious, she seemed concentrated.

I changed positions on my bed, flipping from my stomach to my back. It was a Friday and I uncharacteristically called out of work. As promised N and I began to tinker with- well- whatever the fuck was going on between us. This led to a lot of trial and error and one of the first things we learned about the link was if we spoke aloud, our voices would only be heard through the mind link if our emotions were intense enough.

Any physical speaking if we’re feeling any sort of neutrality, the other person will not hear.

Another thing each of us had unconsciously been assessing throughout the duration of the week were the sounds that were picked up in the link and why those noises bled through. On Wednesday I had taken a trip to Neon, skated around the rink, talked about music with patrons, chatted up women, and heard N yelling in my head about how loud the music was and how fast her heart had begun racing. This led to the realization that if we’re feeling anything particularly severe, ambient noises will begin to bleed through in our shared consciousness. Hence why N could hear the deafening bass from the roller rink. 

Our shared emotions have similar mechanics, though we both seemed to be heavily affected by this factor. Whatever one person feels, the other feels that doubled. Mild irritation for myself turns into blood-curdling anger for N and vice-versa. We found this out on Tuesday, when in the morning, before work, I had spilled grape juice on my pressed shirt, grumbling to myself, and in the midst of trying to get the stain out, it sent N into a tailspin so rageful that she crushed her styrofoam coffee cup on her commute to work in a blind fury.

So our emotions were one of the things that we each tried to work on, though trying to stay mellow throughout the day proved difficult. Neither of us realized how much we fluctuated on a day-by-day basis, especially with the notion of me getting mildly annoyed to actually pissed at work threatened itself every time I returned to that damned basement. And to N’s similar experience, I still didn’t know where she worked or what she did. She sounded smart, sometimes her mumblings about scientific discoveries and classic literature slipped through the cracks, I remained quiet to give her the guise of privacy, she seemed to be a woman who lived in her own head, and I didn’t want to take that away from her.

The mindless thinking, things we don’t even realize that have slipped through into the link is something that we still haven’t gotten used to. I’ve heard N for the past 4 days ponder about what her breakfast, lunch, or dinner will be. N thinks a lot. I mean, her mind really considers things that I haven’t even begun to form in my own head. Yesterday, I let her vent about her crisis with time and how it’s a man-made construct to organize and go about one’s day and those who lose track of time stress over something that doesn’t even exist in the first place. 

Shit gave me a headache.

The last thing the two of us were working on were our memories. 

_I can’t fucking do it._ N whined in my head and the beginnings of irritation settled in my chest, I knew it was her and I groaned aloud.

 _Relax, we can try again tomorrow._ I was definitely a mediator between the two of us, as N seemed like the type of woman to be upset when something didn’t come naturally for her.

For right now, she was trying to send a fond memory over to me, the memory would be indicated by a scent, a sound, much like how I was able to do when I thought about lacrosse or spinning records. 

It frustrated her that she couldn’t send the memory.

Then it frustrated me in turn because we were linked.

So we’d both sit. Frustrated.

 _I can’t just, ‘relax-’_ She impersonated my voice and I rolled my eyes, sometimes the childlike nature of her actions amusing me.

 _This is something I wanted to understand how to do, I mean- you did it, so why can’t I?_ The irritation morphed into unsettlement in my chest. I even frowned unbeknownst to myself as I stared up at my ceiling, effectively getting the sharper end of the emotions N was emitting.

Some silence fell between us, just the sound of my breathing and the quickening pace of my heart rate in my ears.

 _Why does it bother you so much?_ My voice was soft when I finally reached out to her.

More silence fell, the unsettlement turned into sorrow.

 _Because I need to do this, I need to understand, it satisfies me when I know how to do something when I can’t- when I can’t figure something out-_ Her desperate voice faded away in my head as the smell of the ocean invaded my nostrils.

I closed my eyes on my bed. Sandy beaches, adolescent kids running around, childlike laughter, and freedom. But a dark cloud of loneliness swept over me, I rolled into the fetal position on my bed, curled up and shivering from the quickening change in tone. The sky continued to be bright, the water unruly blue, the laughter escalating, but the loneliness remained.

 _Did you go to the beach a lot as a child?_ My voice was the first between us, as far I could tell N had finished her tangent then began to sit in the silence that formed. A silence that was often-times incredibly comfortable.

A gasp, not mine, was heard. 

_N?_ I questioned further, a ghost of a smile threatened itself on my lips.

The image crackled, the beach fading, and laughter lowering out until the silence welcomed me again.

 _Santa Monica, used to go there all the time as a child, I hated it, I never got to play with the other girls._ She sounded nostalgic, the smell of the beach was waning but it still was something toying with my nostrils.

 _I saw the beach N, you sent me something._ I grinned and went to say something else to her, to lift her spirits but my mouth turned into a frown. My joy from N’s success battling with the sorrow that wasn’t my own.

 _This sadness isn’t mine._ I clarified, trying to persuade her into telling me what was wrong.

More beats of silence, the emotions in my chest swirling, not finding a home into a familiar feeling yet.

 _It’s pathetic how the memory I sent you came from a place of negativity. I mean, I hear lacrosse all the time because of you, and those damn club beats going off in my head, they’re sources of your happiness all I can send is a memory of me on a beach where I was tormented as a child._ Sorrow bubbled into anger quickly.

I rolled out of the fetal position, flat on my back as the rage rolled into me. My jaw was clenched, the anger strong, possibly the strongest it’s ever been, I wasn’t even sure N knew how mad she was, and in turn, how mad she was making me be. My nails dug into my bedspread and I groaned aloud, my head rising then slapping back against my pillow as the trembling began.

My heart rate picked up, jaw clenched even tighter, to the point of pain, all because of N’s emotions.

 _N-_ I tried to tell her but another wave hit me.

 _What? What could you possibly fucking want?_ The hostility in her response only made the anger worse for me.

“Fuck-” I muttered and swung my legs over my bed. I stood, shakily, the rage causing my heart rate to skyrocket, the thumping thundering itself in my head, my breathing heavier as I walked through my apartment. 

I hadn’t realized my fists had balled when I stepped into the bathroom. I flicked on the light and placed my hands flat on the countertop, I leaned my weight into the counter, breathing deeply and trying to find any way to make the anger lessen, and not continue to build without resistance as it had been. I shivered again, picking my head up, and looking at my reflection, woodland eyes stared back at me and were darkened slightly by the influx in my emotions. 

“Stop it, please…” I whispered with pity to my reflection, wanting to calm down, not wanting to feel the white-hot rage that heated my skin, made me sweat.

“Fuck! Just stop it please!” To no avail. She could probably hear my screams, probably ignored my begging too. They were the memories she toyed with, her emotions she was feeling, and it was all reflected back onto me.

“Shit-” I let out and squeezed my eyes shut at the sounds of music, clearly not mine, clearly something ambient from N’s side.

I wanted to beg her again, I couldn’t though, I had to let her get through the wave, I had to survive it alongside her, to let know that I could be there for her before the next wave came. As a result, I stepped away from the counter and slid down the back wall of the bathroom. I eyed the lower cabinet to the sink, my lips trembled, teeth chattered, I shook while being completely sedentary. My leg reared back then blasted through the wooden cabinet door with a crash, the satisfaction of the destruction was fulfilling.

The anger remained because it wasn’t mine, to begin with, and it wasn’t mine to disarm.

My foot ached after kicking a hole through the cabinet, I pulled my leg out and saw a bit of blood soaking up the material of my jeans from the crash. My ankle throbbed slightly and I shakily pulled up my pant leg and ran my fingers over the spots where the wood had punctured the skin, the blood started to run down and reddened the sock I was wearing. I looked further, my anger having nowhere to go and I peered more into my flesh, the layers of tissue becoming flooded with the blood that trickled down the side of my ankle.

My hands darted outward, reaching into the hole created by my foot and I found alcohol swabs, bandaids, and some Neosporin. Bunching up the neckline to the t-shirt I wore I bit into the fabric and groaned in pain once the alcohol touched the open wound, the burning sensation enough to make my eyes water. The blood slowed its spewing from the wound and I rubbed the Neosporin onto the gash in my skin afterward, using three bandaids I patched the skin up and continued to sit on the floor. The music blasting in my head not ceasing for a single moment.

 _N, please just talk to me, work this out with me-_ My voice was small despite how livid I was, despite the damage I had done to my apartment and my body.

The music lessened in my head. Hopefully, it was her coming out of the moment, the louder I could hear it, meant the angrier she was getting.

 _Come back down, come back to me, tell me about it, work through it with me, it’s too much for me to handle without your voice, without your reasoning, talk to me so we can work it out._ I was begging at this point, and I could feel my leg trembling again, itching to kick something else despite being battered and bloodied.

The music dulled once again, it was almost quiet enough to give me some peace of mind.

 _I wasn’t treated well when I was younger._ It was her, N was talking. 

I was grateful I couldn’t hear the music anymore, my legs finally ceased shaking and I could breathe without feeling like my chest was going to concave inward.

 _Keep going. I’m right here, I’m always going to be right here N, I’m not leaving._ It was genuine, but also because I wasn’t sure my body could handle that much all at once one more time.

 _I’m a genius. 176 IQ, poetic prodigy, it’s why I read so often, I’m sure you’ve heard-_ She cut herself off, a deep gasp emitting from my throat at the wave of neutrality that hit me, it was like I could function again. I inhaled almost greedily, trying to take as much air in as possible without the suffocating pressure on my chest.

 _You’ve heard, haven’t said anything, but I’m a genius and the girls I grew up with thought it was weird, that I was smart._ N continued, then the sorrow returned, in a much more mild dose, she was talking to me, working it out through the link we shared.

 _Yes I’ve heard, and I figured you were smart. You slip a lot through to me, probably because you’re used to being in your own head. I don’t say anything because I want to give you that privacy, it seems your mind is a fortress, a precious one at that and I want it to continue to be that place._ I felt it was best that I was honest with her, though I sensed nothing changing in terms of what I felt, at least my good intentions were out and in the air.

 _I-_ She paused, I could feel her scramble for a moment. _I appreciate that, though I can’t say the same for you V, the most I hear are your ramblings about music genres._ The air turned lighthearted, something I needed, especially considering the massive hole I had stomped into my bathroom cabinet.

My ankle still throbbed.

I smiled at her perceptiveness. She was right, I didn’t let much bleed through, my conversations with her were always intentional.

 _I speak aloud a lot, it calms me, always has, and a mental link with a random woman probably won’t change my ways._ I laughed automatically afterward, though I didn’t think what I said had been particularly funny, though that must’ve been N who thought it was amusing.

I found myself smiling more at the fact, the notion that I could make her laugh without even knowing who she was, what she was about, I felt close to her already, it was strange. We had known each other for 5 days and yet I’ve discovered a lot about her routine, when she feels indifferent, when she’s angry, when she’s inspired. I’ve taken note of these things as I’m sure she’s done the same for me.

A comfortable silence fell between us.

 _Genius?_ I pondered further.

 _The one and only._ N quipped back and I grinned, I knew she could be witty when she wanted to be.

I took a deep breath and tried to formulate what I wanted to say to her next.

 _Please don’t shut me out like you did. I could hear the music you were blasting and I was sitting helplessly on my bathroom floor in a blind rage, I kicked a hole into my cabinet because I just needed to hit something._ I was candid again, though slight embarrassment hit my chest, I’m sure it belonged to N.

 _I’m sorry-_ She paused, genuinely apologetic, it melted my heart.

 _I talk to one person about my emotions and they’re not physically with me right now, I’ve bottled things for years and I think a mental link with a random woman probably won’t change my ways._ She echoed my previous phrase and I brought my good knee up to my chest, resting my head atop it.

 _I’m always here. I don’t know if it’s possible to get rid of me but I wouldn’t let you, we’re going to figure this out together, and that means no more tangents filled with isolation, rage, and I think that was classical music?_ A laugh ripped through my head. Such a melodious sound.

N did have a nice voice. Feminine but with a bit of a rasp, the voice of a woman who could defend herself without an issue. The voice of a woman who probably _has_ defended herself without an issue. Now that I knew she held a 176 IQ with accolades and degrees I couldn’t dream of having, I found that having her voice in my head was a privilege I wanted to pride myself on.

 _You don’t like classical?_ She was teasing me, and I found it hard not to appreciate how laidback she could be despite the hard exterior.

 _I prefer my music from the 60s and up, it’s what the people like-_ I winced after I said it. Too specific, it begged more questions.

Fuck. Me.

With moderate difficulty, I stood from the floor and washed my hands, waiting for N’s prying voice to rip through my head.

 _People?_ There it came. Another wince.

Double. Fuck. Me.

Unsettlement returned to both of us, affecting her more than me.

 _My job, well one of them. I spin records, I won’t say where because we’re trying to stay ambiguous, but it’s why you hear kick drums, synthesizers, basslines, I listen to music a lot._ I let it out, I was as vague as possible but I had a feeling I said a little too much.

The silence for once between us was uncomfortable.

 _Interesting career path. I’ve gotten your memories from it, lots of lights, nothing too specific, at least it brings you joy._ She was careful as she spoke, I didn’t like it.

 _I’m sorry, can we just talk about something else?_ More honesty from me and I was rewarded with silence.

 _Shit, I’m sorry-_ I’ve never mentally fumbled over something so hard in my life.

More silence.

I couldn’t fucking take it.

 _N?_ I had to call out to her, my resolve crumbled like ancient ruins.

 _My friend came home, so I’m going to pay attention to her now if you could keep quiet, though she knows about you, I’d really appreciate it, thanks._ N’s dismissal was businesslike, void of any emotions, and I groaned again.

“Fuck, I made it weird,” I shook my head and dried my hands on my towel, limping out from the bathroom.

My careful stride landed me back into my room, I reached for my phone and rolled through my contacts. I saw Spencer’s and pressed it, she answered on the first ring.

“Hola chica!” Her usual enthusiastic tone echoed through the phone speaker and I made my way into my kitchen, scoping out the time from the microwave. 

9:57 pm. N and I had been working on the link for the past 4 hours. 

I needed something, and I knew exactly what.

“Shower, get dressed, we’re stepping out tonight, I’m sick of feeling like a sexually stunted 17-year old, I gotta fuck somebody,” Spencer awarded my honesty with a few whistles. She mumbled off some curse words in Spanish as well.

“Shit, it has been a while for you hasn't it? Probably because you’ve been wrapped in being an actual functioning adult-” I rolled my eyes at the jab, Spencer, of course, had to fit it in. “-But I’ll be by in 10 minutes, with outfit options, of course, let’s get you some chica!” She yelped into the phone then promptly hung up.

I tossed my phone on the kitchen counter and pressed my lips together. I got the feeling that this was a bad idea.

~

“Absol-fucking-utely not,” Spencer proclaimed while looking in the full body mirror in my bedroom.

True to her word, punctual as ever, Spencer was over in 10 minutes with a smorgasbord of clothing.

“What? You look hot, I’d fuck you in that,” I commented while sprawled out on my bed and checking out Spencer’s ass in the pleather skirt that was _just_ short of mid-thigh.

She pouted and turned in the mirror, rising to her tip-toes to see how her calves and thighs would look in the heels she would wear tonight. 

“As if you wouldn’t fuck me regardless…” Spencer mumbled off while adjusting the white-lace halter top, throwing the hair-to-her-ass over her shoulder and giving herself a look in the mirror.

I shrugged at the comment, she wasn’t wrong about the idea.

Then there _was_ the one night during junior year of university that we don’t talk about.

“God- I’m trying to find a hot, domineering woman to take me home tonight, should I just go with the tube top? It shows off my stomach and you know how hard I’ve been working for these eleven abs,” She pulled up the halter top and showed off her stomach while making eye-contact with me in the mirror.

“Erm-” I clammed up and Spencer groaned while aggressively pulling the top off.

She covered her bare breasts with an arm and searched through the impressive mountain of clothing on my bed and found the equally white, equally slimming, tube top. Spencer pulled the shirt on while I glanced in amusement and saw her eyes light up in that mischievous way.

“Oh yeah-” She tossed her hair over her shoulder again and looked at me through the mirror, Spencer licked her lips slightly while muttering some phrase in Spanish, then she whistled at her own reflection.

“That the one?” I motioned to the outfit and grinned at her antics when she nodded.

Spencer flopped back on the bed, onto her clothes, and peered at me.

“You know, for a lesbian, you were incredibly useless during that exchange,” Spencer spoke matter-of-factly and it prompted an eye-roll from me.

“I’m not too worried about you Spence, even if you don’t find a hot woman to take home I’m sure you’ll dance enough for the both of us tonight,” I peered back at her and her eyes narrowed.

Uh-oh. Spencer could decode my poker face like it was a 15-piece puzzle made for children.

“We always dance together Val, that’s the best way to wing-woman for me, you know once this Latina body gets going-” She rolled her hips on my bed for emphasis and I groaned.

“Stop, stop, I just washed these sheets-” I spoke sarcastically, covering my eyes, while shying away from Spencer’s quickly moving hand, which landed a swift slap on my arm.

I winced at the blow then pouted while rubbing the stinging skin on my arm, I gave her a look while she rolled her eyes and continued her penetrating gaze on me.

“You _are_ dancing with me tonight?” The emphasis on the word and the way Spencer looked at me made me press my lips together.

It seemed like the matter of me dancing with her tonight was a surrogate for something else she wanted to ask me. If I denied, I felt it was going to confirm something Spencer had already deduced in her head. The whole idea I had about hiding N from Spencer until the foreseeable future seemed like a shitty plan right about now. Considering the out Spencer unknowingly gave me, and the fact I wanted to go out and have sex with the first woman that made me groan under my breath from how attractive they were.

“Okay, so, I have something to tell you and you can’t freak out, yell at me Spanish, hit me, or anything, you gotta just let me talk,” I prefaced and faced Spencer head-on. 

My friend nodded, turning toward me, giving me her undivided attention.

So I took a deep breath, then spilled.

~

Spencer took the news...

Well, she took it.

I could see particular moments in her expression where she wanted to interrupt, call me _loca_ then mumble prayers to me when she knew I was an atheist. Those moments occurred when I told her about the ‘training’ session N and I had tonight, our chats throughout the day, the link as a concept that exists-

So basically everything.

Spencer, however, did not call me a liar. Which I was expecting from the gate, but I was pleasantly surprised to be wrong.

When I got to the part about our emotions, how they’re shared, and how sometimes I can’t really control exactly what I feel was when Spencer’s incredulous expression shifted into neutrality.

“Yesterday, lunch at Diablo, you gave me an entire update on Niki’s family at Neon, then we talked about music-” Her eyebrows furrowed together, “You got pissed all of a sudden, literally snapped the spork you were using for your Stouffer’s mac n’ cheese-” She looked up at me.

“Music never makes me angry Spence,” I couldn’t take the sincerity from my voice if I tried.

“You weren’t angry… It was her…” She trailed.

Some beats of silence fell, my eyes on Spencer’s face as she clearly took in the plethora of information I had given her.

“Well, why was she so damn mad? We were having a good conversation yesterday,” It came from nowhere I gave Spencer a quizzical expression because of her question.

I settled further into my bed and tried to remember why N was angry yesterday afternoon, then the realization hit me.

“She probably wasn’t even that mad, our emotions are heightened when we aren’t the originator of said emotion, so she was probably just agitated at something and it affected me more than her-”

“Can’t you stop that? Isn’t it annoying?” My lips paused when Spencer interrupted me, then stared at me expectantly.

As if I was the one being rude.

I scoffed and sat upon the bed, running a hand through my intentionally tousled hair. “Yes, of course, it’s annoying, but it’s still something that’s new to the both of us, I can’t exactly stop her from having emotions, just like she can’t stop me,”

Spencer stared at me, eyes narrowed, then she relaxed and took a deep breath.

“Well, why do you call her N? Do you guys know each other?” Now _that_ was a question I wasn’t anticipating, or still didn’t really have the answer to,

“She didn’t want to know my name, so I told her to call me by the first letter of my name, and she does the same for me,” I shrugged on the bed and watched Spencer shift.

She rolled off the pile of clothes and onto my outstretched legs.

The lower half of my outstretched legs.

With the sore and bloody ankle.

From kicking a fucking hole into my bathroom cabinet.

Needless to say, I winced, or more like, shot up on the bed like a cartoon character, emitting a scream comparable to Goofy or the Tom and Jerry shorts. 

It scared Spencer, who screamed.

Then it made me scream.

Then Spencer kept screaming.

“Fuck! Stop!” I looked at her, annoyed, but I laughed immediately afterward, already recognizing the rapidly changing emotions in my chest.

“Woah, you just did it again- Shit- Is that her?” Spencer shot up on the bed, rolling her weight onto my ankle _once again_ and I groaned, my smile slipped, but then it repositioned itself on my face.

It got quiet, but I heard faint laughing from N’s side.

“She’s happy, laughing, I can hear it,” I looked at Spencer, who sat with her mouth gaped.

“So, she’s maybe not mad at you for making things awkward?” She pondered while shifting on my ankle once more.

“Fuck- _Spencer Abasta_ if you roll on my ankle one more time right after I just told you it was sore because I kicked a fucking hole in my bathroom cabinet-” I stopped when she started laughing at my serious expression. I rolled my eyes, but steeled my annoyance, not wanting to affect the happy mood N seemed to be in. 

“Let’s just fucking head out, I’m ready to have my singular drink for the week, I’ve been saving it,” I swung my legs over the bed and stood, putting most of my weight on my right leg, as the left had the clearly sore and agitated ankle.

Spencer concurred then hummed as she stood. She brushed her hair for good measure and continued to help me tend to my intentionally tousled locks. I looked at us in the mirror, Spencer now at 5’8” in the 4-inch pumps she had on, and I with my own heeled St. Laurent boots (that I totally didn’t scam off a trust fund kid in university) that gave me 5 inches over Spencer and I grinned at her.

She helped me fix the collar of the flowy button-up I wore, the expanse of my olive-toned chest out for the evening as my own jeans appeared painted on, with the sleeves up three-quarters of the way, the dark-wash in my pants complimented the dark tones in the floral pattern of my shirt. Spencer giggled then ran a fingernail up the skin of my neck while giving my cheek a kiss, “I know your ankle is hurting, but can you still give me a dance once I spot the woman that’ll rearrange my guts for me tonight?” She pouted and beamed up at me.

An eye-roll later I agreed and the two of us were finally heading out of my apartment.

~

Upon arriving at _Escándalo_ the club of Spencer’s preference as its patrons were predominantly bilingual, Hispanic-raised like Spencer, she definitely felt at home here.

At least the cumbias were good.

The color scheme consisted of deep maroons and grays, the bar was stacked in the middle of the building, with party-goers fluttering to and fro for second, third, and fourth rounds of alcohol. I winced at the sight of a woman stumbling her way toward the bathroom, which was a sharp right of the entrance, and I remembered when I was that woman stumbling my way to vomit just so I could drink even more. I shelved those thoughts for the evening, not wanting to rain on my parade or even N’s, even though I couldn’t hear her anymore.

It bothered me a little more than I was willing to admit to myself too.

“Do you want your drink now or later?” Spencer yelled in my ear which brought me out of my own head.

I came back to the moment, couples dancing on the floor, great music, my head unconsciously bopping to the beat of the song, I looked over at Spencer, “Let’s get it now, then dance for a little, nothing too crazy though, my ankle is mad fucked!” I yelled back at her and she nodded.

I gripped her hand and walked my way through the crowd, my eyes already darting from female to female to female, I was on a mission tonight, and inconsolably horny. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to have sex until I dialed up Spencer for the evening and the only thing I could think about was the feeling of the stress leaving my body once I made a woman cum tonight, I’d be okay if I could just forget about everything for a moment and a share a night with someone.

Finally, after Spencer and I both laid some elbows on some overly touchy men that eyed the shorter brunette a little too closely we reached the bar. She stepped up to the plate while I watched in amusement as the bartender saw her then practically floated over.

The exchange was in Spanish, but I caught “ _dos cosmopolitans_ ” before the conversation went beyond me.

So vodka tonight.

I wasn’t complaining.

Especially not when Spencer handed me the smaller plastic cup and I took a sip from the tiny straw, I grinned and took shorter sips, savoring the taste but appreciating the luxury of the alcohol.

They always say ‘eat to live, don’t live to eat,’

Well, back in the day, I lived to drink then over time drank to live.

But now, here in _Escándalo_ with Spencer by my side, who knew my limits, and helped me get my drinking to the once-a-week controlled interval it was at, I knew I could be okay with just the one cocktail for the evening.

I drained the cosmo, feeling a slight buzz, and I had never been so happy to be a lightweight.

Spencer, drink in her hand, arm wrapped in mine, eyed the dance floor. Her brown eyes met my green and I saw her down the cosmo and felt her grip on my bicep tighten. “You lead, I’ll follow?” She yelled in my ear as we walked closer to the gyrating bodies on the floor, occupied near the DJ booth.

My eyes scanned the DJ, a woman, and my brow raised as the transition for the song began, I saw her reach for the jog wheel, creating the scratching effect as she cued up her next song, the BPMs matched and the song flowed smoothly, beat matching on par with my own.

 _Fuck, that was kind of hot._ Then I panicked, realizing I sent that thought directly over to N.

My grip on Spencer’s arm tightened and she glanced at me, a little alarmed, I tried to shake away my error, giving her a reassuring smile, but she eyed me warily.

We danced lazily for a moment before I could hear the DJ lowering the pitch of the song, slowing down the tempo as she gradually sped it up again and then transitioned once more, the beats flowing together when the DJ spun she made it look easy. Her headphones hung around her neck, she nodded her head to the music, but her eyes were focused on her laptop, it was one thing I tried not to do, DJ engagement with the crowd and composure on the microphone was a great thing for any disc jockey to have, I gave her the benefit of the doubt, she was probably already deep into her set, into the music and she didn’t want any distractions-

 _Are you just not going to explain yourself? And why it sounds like a circus in my head right now?_ N’s voice crackled to life and I stumbled a little in the hold I had on Spencer’s waist.

Her eyes narrowed further but she didn’t push me on it, her hips moving to the beat as she scanned the crowd.

 _I’m out, at a club, having a good time, apologies if it’s loud._ It was sheepish, but I didn’t know what else to say, I wasn’t going to leave.

 _It’s loud, and it’s late._ N deadpanned back to me, the annoyance clear and some anger seeped into me.

I’m also 25, single, and it’s a fucking Friday.

I made sure _not_ to tell her that.

 _No- stop it- You don’t get to be mean and rude to me, I’m trying to have a good time like a normal adult, don’t get me pissed off._ I tried to reason but the anger grew and I huffed out a breath.

I kept the rhythm but Spencer noticed my rigidity.

“What’s wrong?” She yelled out to me.

“N, says it’s too loud for her right now, she’s pissed,” I saw Spencer give me a determined look before she gripped my hand tighter.

“So let’s beat her then-” She danced a little more aggressively, swung that hair of hers a little more wildly and I stared at her.

“Beat her? I don’t understand?” I questioned before Spencer spun herself then pressed our bodies together, our feet falling in step to the cumbia as I twirled her, and we continued to dance.

“Beat her Val. It’s whatever emotion is felt the strongest wins, if you have fun here, dance with me, I’m sure some of that anger is going to fall away and it’ll _force_ N into a more friendly mood,” I wasn’t sure how I felt about the plan, our feet continuing to step, my hand at Spencer’s waist as I led her through the dance.

I couldn’t fret on the idea any longer as I heard Spencer’s gasp, the song had changed, to one I was very familiar with.

La Sonora Dinamita’s _Mi Cucu_ was a favorite of Spencer’s, the familiar beat beginning to settle as we shifted on the dance floor, moving to the right of the DJ booth as the woman and I locked eyes for the first time in the night.

I groaned under my breath. Then I knew what had to be done. I had to have her.

_Oh, morena, como está tu cucu?_  
_Estamos en cuculandia'_  
_Que lindo es tu cucu_  
_Tan bello tu cucu_

The song gets going, Spencer singing it into my ear and she gets that Latina body of hers moving as well. I led, but Spencer was definitely the star with every twirl, hip roll, and movement on rhythm the two of us made.

My ankle was killing me but I just couldn’t let Spencer down, I was going to show this woman off in the best way I could.

_Se me suelta el_  
_Y te quiero mas y mas mas mas mas mas_  
_No me canso de mirar_  
_Pero quisiera tocar_

The anger ebbed away, I could feel the giddiness from the drink I had, Spencer and I dancing, the DJ’s eyes that _kept_ glancing at me, and my joy overpowered the seemingly unstoppable rage N held.

It was a shocking revelation, but a good one nonetheless.

_Que lindo es tu cucu_  
_Bonito tu cucu_  
_Redondito y suavecito_  
_Responsable esta tu cucu cucu_

The beat began to switch as the song transitioned, Spencer had melted herself to my front as her ass rubbed against me, she was scoping out women, but making herself look good while she did so. With a kiss on my cheek and a parting hand to my chest, she joined the arms of a taller, fairer-skinned woman on the other end of the floor, which left me on my lonesome. My joy remained, but the air between N and I was neutral by this point, and I wasn’t going to make the mistake of slipping something through the cracks once again.

“I like the way you move,” The voice was smooth, rich, and I turned my head.

The DJ cocked her head to the side and gave me a sly grin, her eyes panning between me and her laptop. At just the sound of her voice, my nipples got hard so I was very interested in continuing this conversation.

“Oh yeah? Think you could keep up with me?” The flirtatious remark came off naturally and I saw the DJ’s grin widened.

She bit her lip and I saw her adjust her headphones, she played with the jog wheel a little more before cueing up another song, decreasing the tempo slightly so the BPMs would blend. Once the beat had settled her attention was back on me.

“Oh I think I could surprise you by how much I can handle,” Her eyes, blue, stayed on mine.

I took the time, in my shock of the obvious innuendo, to scan over her once more. Ribbed black tank top over her perky bust and toned body, she had on jeans but I could see her ass from the slightly angled view I had of her. Brown hair was in a simple braid but I could tell it was long, but the kicker was the sleeve of tattoos she dawned, they made my mouth salivate, and I grinned.

“I’m Frankie,” Was what I heard over the sound of the heavy brass section in the song she played.

“Call me V,” I answered back and saw her press her lips together, she continued to mix and I made myself busy by joining the small crowd near the booth, feeling the heat of her gaze the entire time. 

I figured V would be a safe bet, just in case N hears me having sex, at least my name won’t be revealed during the act.

I was still in earshot when I heard her call out to me again, “I get off at 2, and I have to bring my equipment to my car if you can wait that long?” She yelled and produced a particular transition that made me want to fuck her even more.

“Perfectly fine,” I gave her a toothy grin.

Fine I was indeed.

~

It is currently 3:14 AM, _Escándalo_ closed at 2, but Frankie being a good samaritan helped the bar clean as I stood off to the side and waited for her. Spencer had gone off with her hookup around 12:30, but I sat around and waited, desperate. I helped her move her equipment to her car, which some time blew by when we got distracted as she pulled me in for a kiss and I’ve been so touch-starved that I greedily drank her in exactly the way she wanted me to.

But it’s 3:14 AM and I have Frankie pressed firmly against the door of my apartment, lips locked, my hands on her ass, her hands in my hair as we battled for control of the kiss.

With a nibble on her bottom lip, Frankie giggled and continued kissing me. My right hand stayed at her ass, it was comfortable there, as my left hand slid to the apex between her legs and I cupped her over her jeans. The reaction was instantaneous, Frankie groaned, and grounded herself against my hand, chasing after the delicious friction I was rewarding her with.

“Someone’s eager,” I sneered in between lip-locks and Frankie giggled, pushing into the contact once more.

With my ankle protesting the idea the second it found itself in my psyche, I muttered a quick, “Jump,” to Frankie, who complied as I muscled my way into my room. I dropped Frankie on my bed to the side of the pile of Spencer’s clothes and I pushed them off the bed, ignoring the throb from my ankle then running a hand through my hair as I looked down at Frankie.

“Fuck.” A simple curse, something that needed to be said, though I wasn’t sure if I could hold it back if I tried.

My clit was throbbing already, especially as I leaned over and laid a kiss to Frankie’s neck, just to watch the goosebumps appear. “Just met me and I already affect you like this?” I trailed my kisses higher, connecting our lips.

We broke apart, “When I saw you dancing, you led so well, _God,_ I wanted you to dismantle me,” breathless, Frankie spoke out and I kissed her again, the desperation coming back. 

“Dismantle?” I questioned her and grounded our pelvis’ together, and even I couldn’t help the hiss of pleasure that came from my lips.

“Yes. Fucking dismantle me V-” Our lips locked once again as my fingers reached the bottom of her tank, I pulled it off, breasts finally freed as I grinned.

My eyes darted from the left to the right, left-right, right-left, I fucking wanted both of them in my mouth at once but I settled on the left initially. I peppered kisses around the skin, avoiding the dusky peak, my tongue came out and flicked over her nipple, once, twice, then I blew cool air onto the bud and Frankie shivered, our hips coming together again.

“ _Fuck,_ please don’t tease me so much-” She whined, bottom lip trapped in her mouth and she finally let out a soft moan when my mouth covered her nipple.

I flicked the nipple in my mouth, my teeth coming out to play as I nipped at the peak, Frankie groaned at the slight pain, releasing a breathless, “Bite harder-” before her eyes fluttered when I complied, blue pupils rolling back into her head when I bit especially hard then moved to the other nipple. When my mouth was occupied, my fingers kept playing with the stiff peaks, Frankie seemingly having incredibly sensitive skin as her mouth twitched and her hips bucked every time my hands would apply excessive pressure on her nipples.

My nipples weren’t like that, but they were hard, poking through the fabric of my shirt.

Didn’t compare to the inferno that was going on between my legs. My clit was aching, begging for any kind of stimulation, but that would come much later, like until after I made Frankie cum once or twice, or three times.

Speaking of cumming.

“V, if you keep playing with my nipples I will cum, they’re so sensitive- _oh fuck..._ ” she trailed off in a guttural moan, elongated as my hand begrudgingly left its place on her breast and trailed lower to her pussy.

My fingers popped the button open to her jeans and Frankie’s legs parted immediately. I looked up to say something snarky, but all I saw was the hooded gaze and lustful eyes of the woman.

She needed me, _badly._

I was drunk off the power alone.

I pulled the jeans off, unbuttoning my shirt while I was at it, and stared back at Frankie. My fingernails dragged down her stomach, making her release a shuddering breath, then they dragged upwards and she inhaled sharply. My hand grasped her breast, “This where you need me?” and Frankie shook her head, biting her lip, “Lower, _please,_ ” she was practically sobbing at this point and I nodded my head.

My hand trailed lower, scratching over her stomach to elicit more of those throaty moans as my fingertips lightly graze the sensitive skin right above her pussy. “This where you need me?” I couldn’t help the smirk from my mouth, or the eagerness from Frankie, “Yes, yes, please V, I'm drenched, and it’s all for you, please-” her breath hitched when my fingers ran through her folds, she groaned low in her throat as my touch was experimental.

She didn’t lie about being drenched, however.

My eyes peering down at my index and middle fingers trailing from her entrance to just shy of her clit, the skin absolutely soaked, Frankie’s juices coating my fingers down to my last knuckle just from a few pass-throughs.

“Shit-” Was what came out of my mouth initially.

“You _really_ want me to fuck you don’t you?” I couldn’t help the filth that spewed from my lips.

“Drenching my entire fucking bed, waiting 4 hours since you met me because you want me inside you that bad?” My middle finger found her clit mid-sentence and it shifted Frankie into attention.

She moaned from my touch and probably words as well, considering how eagerly she kept rocking her hips to the lazy circles I rubbed into her clit, she shivered when I pinched the bud slightly, then continued with my ministrations. My one finger became two and I leaned over Frankie slightly, her legs spread, my fingers working her steadily, and I think she was just grateful that I was giving her consistent pleasure.

“Inside, please, I need you inside-” She choked on a moan and bit her lip, I kept looking down at her, kissing her lazily as she kept moaning in my mouth. I sucked her bottom lip in my mouth and popped it back, sinking into her with my two fingers just as I uttered, “Greedy,” and Frankie relished in the fucking I gave her.

My fingers pumped strongly, Frankie reaching to circle her clit as I fucked her with a steady rhythm. My fingers curled, hitting her g-spot that made her thighs shake as I noted about 4 thrusts ago when I had begun to scissor and curl my fingers inside of her. Frankie quieted, but she began to push that clit of hers, two fingers rubbing tight, fast, circles on the bud as she rocked into my hand, hips rolling to meet mine as her moans mellowed out. She gasped, shivered, the occasional quiver before her body started to tighten up. The occasion moans she let were staccato, her head tipped back and I relished in the sight of the muscles in her neck tightening, her jaw clenching as she chased the orgasm I was about to give her.

“You’re close…” It wasn’t a question.

Frankie was delirious, drunk off pleasure, my fingers, her impending orgasm. “So fucking close, I’m right there, shit- _I’m right there,_ ”

Her back bowed as I shifted over her and held down a hip, keeping her as still as possible as I fucked her through the tidal of an orgasm she crested upon. She let out a loud and firm, “Fuck!” before fully tumbling over the edge and she began to cum. Frankie trembled, moaned, her hand gripping onto my forearm as her nail dug in, but my thrusts didn’t cease, I only stopped fucking her when she released a huge sigh and she groaned when my fingers exited her.

I looked at my glistening fingers and my mouth watered all over again. I let her rest as my head lowered. I kissed her stomach, looking up at her with a grin as her eyes fluttered open. She took my fingers and sucked them into her mouth, tongue wiping over the digits that were just inside her and I bit my lip.

“Those were supposed to be mine,” I kissed her stomach again, a little lower.

Frankie giggled and her hand found its way to my hair, the shoulder-length locks falling onto her stomach, in which I laid another kiss, nearing her mound.

“Why don’t you just go straight for the source?” the lust still clearly in her eyes and as my lips found her folds.

I swiped through, once, twice, then laid a tiny kiss to her clit. Frankie tugged at my hair for a moment, clearly wanting more contact.

 _It is 3 in the morning, some of us were sleeping._ N. Right now. Once-a-fucking-gain. 

My eyes widened and Frankie had hers closed so she couldn’t see the panic running through my body, but I straightened myself quickly, and lazily licked at her clit, running my tongue up and down her slit, the taste intoxicating.

 _I know you’re horny, why don’t you rub one out while the show is here?_ I joked back to N and felt a twinge of annoyance but Frankie moaned once I popped her clit into my mouth and it all washed away.

“ _dontstopdontstopdontstop_ ” Frankie repeated like a mantra as my tongue went to work and N quieted.

Maybe she took my advice.

I was upset by how appealing the idea sounded.

Maybe even more appealing than the woman I had on the cusp of her second orgasm for the evening.

I’m fucked.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, the story is taking a turn into lewder territories, I'll fly with this tone into Nyota's p.o.v next chapter. Sex is going to be an interesting device in this story, as they are two different people who have vastly different views about sex and I'll get into what Ny's feelings about the art of lovemaking and carnal pleasures (ew) are in the next chapter.
> 
> Until then enjoy this little scene of Valerian fucking someone that isn't Nyota, and I'm still kinda contemplating on whether I want Frankie to join our eclectic cast of side characters, so if you want more of her, let me know, I am eager to read and eager to please. 
> 
> Thank you however for reading this story up and until this point, we're getting just out of the woods of the exposition I've laid down surrounding the characters and getting used to the link, I've got some banging ideas ahead, so buckle up guys, gals, and non-binary pals.


	5. Chapter 4: Editor? More Like The Exec Who Will Dogwalk You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Women were in fact as malicious as men. They knew where to strike, what to say, how to say things to cause a reaction.
> 
> That being said, I haven’t allowed myself to open up to anyone in a while, man or woman.
> 
> And V, well, she was a special case.
> 
> She was here because I didn’t know how to make her leave.
> 
> She was here despite me expressing my frustration at our predicament at least twice a day.
> 
> If she could go, I’m not sure she’d think twice about staying."
> 
> _Or..._
> 
> The gal pals talk about sex, have a little heart to heart, and celebrate an anniversary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends!
> 
> First off, um, 92 hits??? What the hell? You guys rock! I'm so excited to see this little thing I've put together begin to grow, it's crazy for me to even imagine 92 people in the same room, along with the few kudos I've also gotten, so thank you guys for that, you're making one gay girl very, very, happy :)
> 
> Secondly, just a disclaimer this chapter is subject to have an addition. I know exactly what I want to add, and where I want to add it. I want to add a little more details surrounding Nyota at her job, but I also wanted to get this chapter up as well, so let me know if you're interested in seeing her creative process and, of course, shit on Todd at Diablo Publishing.
> 
> I find it harder to write as Nyota because I'm personally more like Valerian in my day-to-day life, but I really enjoy making her come alive as a character, especially her views about sex and relationships really set her apart from a lot of the people in this story.
> 
> I liked how this chapter turned out and stay tuned to the end because it gets a little dicey... :)
> 
> But I will leave you alone for now, once more I appreciate any feedback; leave a comment, kudos, I love to have a dialogue with anyone who's interested in the story and the lore, you guys are the best!
> 
> Enjoy xx

_**Nyota** _

Though the work has almost been spoiled by Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange, I quite enjoyed Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony as pastime music, background music, I enjoyed the piece as a whole. I was no virtuoso but I knew good music when I heard it, and the fact the work was renowned for being in that God awful Kubrick movie and questioningly infamous Burgess novel made my body shudder in a displeasing way. One thing was for sure, regardless of its infamy Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony was a piece that brought me comfort.

A lot more comfort than the sound of V violently fucking someone.

Usually, our voices weren’t picked up in the link, especially if either of us were feeling rather indifferent about whatever situation we were in or whatever neutral thoughts were in our heads.

But, _no_ V had to be fucking this skank on her side of the link with vigor and gusto because damn it- her voice kept popping into my head every 30 or so seconds. (It was 27 seconds on average, it had happened so frequently that I was able to calculate the mean in no time.)

My eyebrow was ticking, it was infuriating, 4:17 AM on a Saturday and these two goons on the other side don’t seem to be in the mood to stop-

 _You like that?_ V’s rich and deepened tone ricocheted off in my head like grapeshot rounds.

“Yes you psychopath, I think she fucking likes it!” I yelled at no one in particular, my room was empty, and I was probably livid enough for V to have heard me shout if these were under normal circumstances.

Of course, these weren’t normal circumstances, my anger had no effect in puncturing through the darkened veil of pure and raw arousal coursing through my body. I had no choice but to sit there, my body _throbbing_ as a proxy because of Valerian’s own emotions. It wasn’t like I could control it, we were linked and for once her emotions overpowered my own. V seemed exponentially better at letting situations roll off her back, probably to be courteous of my own existence and to make each of our lives better, but I couldn’t let a damn thing go to save myself.

I took things- everything- to the heart. My family knew, Jasmine knew, and I’m sure V knew by this point.

Earlier in the evening, when the pounding drums, sharp accordion, and the Colombian style woodwind instruments violently entered my psyche, my agitation grew. Since we were connected, it meant V was pissed off at whatever event she was at, but the anger was blown out of the water by an overwhelming force of exuberance. The feeling was so strong that it cut off my conversation with Jasmine and brought me off the couch, the music was so visceral in my ears, my heartbeat was pounding, my body wanted to move, and it was all because of V’s positivity overpowering my irritation and air of melancholy.

 _*thunk* *thunk* *thunk*_ That brought an eyebrow raise from me.

No voices from V’s side, but the furniture was making noise-

Oh.

How fun.

And cliche.

 _A strap-on? How classy._ I couldn’t even stop the thought when it formed and was sent over to V.

Now I just wait for the inevitable smug and snark from her response...

 _I guess rubbing one out didn’t pull the stick from your ass?_ She, of course, was nothing but complacent.

I hated how appealing she sounded when she responded to my bitchiness with more bitchiness.

 _If you must know, I didn’t… do that._ My face flushed, but I refused to repeat such vulgarities, even if I wasn’t saying them out loud.

It was quiet from her end for a moment and I looked down at my own body. The honey-colored bedspread was bunched around my waist, I had pushed it down once the sex noises and the scorching arousal made their way onto my radar over 45 minutes ago. The neckline of my oversized t-shirt was damp from sweat and my nipples had gotten painfully hard and were defiantly pressing their way into the fabric of the tee.

 _You didn’t tonight, or you don’t?_ Her clarification brought me out of my assessment of my body, I looked worn-in, used, in V’s vocabulary, well fucked.

I struggled to find an answer to her question. The lust fading momentarily, replaced by my hesitation.

 _I do, I just-_ It was hard to find the correct words. _It’s a necessity, not something I have to enjoy though._ Throughout the search for an answer, the least I could do was tell her the truth, besides, though we haven’t tested it, I had a feeling she could tell I was lying if I tried to.

 _That’s a shame._ She was calm, satiated.

I felt overly content from her despite feeling sexually rampant only moments ago.

 _I think a good orgasm goes a long way._ V returned, to my chagrin, my face flushed again.

I knew the embarrassment was mine and the slight amusement I felt was her.

 _Do you only date women?_ Curiosity bit my ass. I couldn’t help the thought, but the amusement remained.

 _N, I haven’t dated anyone since high school. I fuck women-_ She paused, and the flush spread from my face to my ears. Not even the content nature from V could help the intrinsic embarrassment from myself.

 _If you’re asking if I’m a lesbian, the answer is yes._ Her voice dipped again. Into those deep trenches filled with caramel and chocolate, I wasn’t sure if a person’s voice could be an aphrodisiac, but I was beginning to become uneasy by how much I wanted V’s to be mine.

I shook my head at the thought, I didn’t know what this woman looked like, how she lives, _where_ she lived. The animosity filled my thoughts and completely washed away the contentedness from V. Though the calmed nature of her flowed back into me, it was overpowering my mental ramblings, so I assumed the woman on the side was extremely relaxed.

 _How about yourself? Exclusive to one gender?_ V’s question was fair. I had pried so she felt she could pry too. Despite it being uncouth I didn’t want to answer her question, the walls I fought hard to keep up seemingly crumbling the second her melodic voice entered my head.

 _No, I tolerate men and women._ It was the truth from my end.

I heard her hum but she stayed silent.

I tolerated women more than men at least. Men were my vice when I needed to feel in control, I could out-smart a man, out-think a man, out-man a man, and the men I lusted after particularly enjoyed a strong-willed woman such as myself. Women were my vice for when I was feeling vulnerable, a woman’s embrace being a feeling that brought comfort even for the frigid likes of myself. A woman’s embrace made my walls come down and my mouth open, I spoke about my problems with women, and they were there to listen to me.

Women were in fact as malicious as men. They knew where to strike, what to say, how to say things to cause a reaction.

That being said, I haven’t allowed myself to open up to anyone in a while, man or woman.

And V, well, she was a special case.

She was here because I didn’t know how to make her leave.

She was here despite me expressing my frustration at our predicament at least twice a day.

If she could go, I’m not sure she’d think twice about staying.

 _So you don’t date-_ I heard V’s voice return and my eyebrows furrowed.

 _And how would you know that?_ Complete defensiveness in my tone. I might as well spelled out ‘You’ve struck a nerve’ on my forehead.

 _Besides the hostility you’ve just given me? Well, your surefire independence and overwhelming intelligence indicates to me that you could probably find a partner, but you choose not to._ V seemed content with her answer.

I felt antsy at the fact, it wasn’t the first time one of her deductions had been right on the money, and yet it wasn’t the first time I’ve failed to give her credit for some of the perceptiveness she’s displayed to me.

 _Go on._ I responded to her, opting to be coy though I knew she could feel the slight flare-up in my anxiety.

I let her tranquility flow through me once again and I waited for her voice.

 _I believe you think of sex like masturbation; a necessity but not something of enjoyment and it’s just a shame to me._ She seemed like she felt genuine sorrow for my feelings and I felt myself sit up and lean against the headboard of my bed.

I swallowed, my throat clicking from the lack of moisture. I leaned over to my right and picked up the glass of water I had always kept on my nightstand, taking a few gulps I set the glass back down and curled both of my knees up on the bed. I rocked on the mattress a few times, replaying ‘it’s just a shame to me’ in her voice again and again. The syllables rolled nicely, V spoke with confidence, ease, she could probably talk her away out of any predicament she found herself in.

I shivered a little and relented from grabbing at my bedspread.

 _Why is it a shame?_ I fought the tremble from my thoughts.

It was hard to mask something so intimate such as a thought because it was so instinctual to be candid with them. I’m sure V could hear the tremble from miles away.

 _As I said, a good orgasm goes a long way N._ Caramel and chocolate returned. Such sweetness to the tone, something so tender, and rich, the personalization of the message didn’t stop the shudders from continuing down my spine either.

 _If you’re not fucking-_ I physicality winced at her vulgarity, _-And you’re not providing pleasure for yourself- my goodness where is all that tension going? Don’t tell me you bottle it up like your anger?_ My eyes rolled at the jab she fit in at the end and I let my legs slide back down on the bed.

My ankles dipped underneath the spread and I rested my head against the wood of my bed.

 _Sometimes suppressing things is easier for me than facing them._ Candid. I breathed out a deep sigh after I sent the thought over to her.

 _What’s so intimidating about pleasure? Especially if it comes from your own hand? None of the intimidation that comes along with giving your body to another person?_ V pressed on the topic and I felt the content in the air fizzle slightly.

Unease replaced it. My own.

Then apologeticness. V’s. She backpedaled as soon as she felt my vehement resistance from the question.

 _I’m sorry._ A long pause. _I didn’t mean to push._ Another long pause.

 _It’s just hard for me not to question something that is so different from my own lifestyle._ V aimed for reassurance, comfort, and I sucked in a sigh of relief when the topic shifted from myself.

 _What kind of lifestyle is that?_ I found myself asking, catching the same curiosity as I assumed V had just moments ago.

 _A lively one. I enjoy people, good music, the nightlife-_ She paused and a white-hot ping of arousal filled me, _-Sex._ V finished her sentence and I panted slightly.

The emotions were dizzying, especially when the high and lows were so contrasting and came consecutively.

 _What about sex appeals to you? I mean, to me it’s just a physical act. Penetration, cunnilingus, fellatio if I’m feeling particularly giving-_ I stopped at the laughter that filled my head. I rolled my eyes, Jasmine always getting after me for using such proper terms for sex, but when I thought about sex, then chopped it up to the physical activity and the need for it, it helped me brush away my anxiety about passion and the feelings surrounding the intimacy.

Which is what I lacked.

 _I like intimacy, the closeness of it all. Sharing a bed with a different woman every time is intriguing. She is different every time, how she kisses me, how she touches me, how she lets me touch her. Maybe she’ll take charge, maybe she’ll gasp, or scream- I get drunk off her taste-_ I hadn’t realized I had been biting my lip but I quickly released the flesh and tried to stop my trembling limbs.

V was passionate, the very essence of it.

 _-A woman’s taste is delectable. Exquisite, something to cherish, not something to ignore. I like to lose myself in taste, in her, in what she lets me do to her. How her body responds to me, how we work together to make each other feel complete and utter ecstasy._ Her voice ebbs out and I gulp again, turning my head and draining the rest of the water in my glass before frantically setting the cup back down.

I didn’t know a voice could rile me up like this. Mere depiction of V’s interests, what she likes in sex, what she _cherishes_ about women. Quite frankly my sexual experiences and hookups had been on a necessity basis.

My body works. I get aroused, it functions. However, losing myself in pleasure, or losing myself in providing pleasure had always seemed like a fairytale, things out of the erotica that I edit for work, which is always something I look for to make a story worthwhile. Everything V describes sounds like the perfect story to publish and something I’ll never experience.

 _You alright over there?_ It was V, her voice was soft. She was probably questioning the prodding arousal that I was the culprit of, though I appreciated her sense to not tease me about getting worked up over her descriptions.

 _Yes, I just need a second to calm down, you’re very stimulating when you speak V._ I could only wonder what she looked like after I let her know that her stories had gotten me worked up.

It was slight but the sexual excitement ebbed into a bit of pridefulness.

My brain ran with that emotion, wondering if V said those things to me from her will, to excite me, to turn me on, my body didn’t calm at the thought, it only became _that_ more alive.

 _I know a way to handle that…_ V’s voice came in a sing-song manner, teasing, lighthearted, clearly a way to diffuse the full throb my body began to emit.

 _V-_ I warned her, and clearly it wasn’t the correct way to deescalate the situation but I let out an embarrassing groan afterward.

I have _never_ let out a noise so lewd from my lips.

 _If you want… We could always do it together? At least, to make you feel less awkward about it, that way you’ll know someone’s joining you in the pleasure._ she fleshed out the idea and I had half the mind to roll over and pretend I was asleep. The idea was batshit crazy and something leagues out of my sexual comfort zone but it was clearly something V could ask me without batting a single lash.

 _Not today, I’m probably going to try and sleep, though thank you for the offer…?_ It came off more questioning than I wanted from my end, but I wasn’t sure how to respond to the proposition of the two of us simultaneously touching ourselves, knowing the other could hear anything we failed to conceal from slipping through the cracks.

 _Okay, next time? I have no problems, just say the word, and I’ll be ready to go. But I’ve kept you up long enough tonight, get some sleep and enjoy your Saturday, I’ll warn you that I will be working tonight so apologies if the noise gets a little loud._ Ah yes, her job, which made me freeze and cower away earlier.

 _I’m sorry for ignoring you after your slipup with your work- it just freaked me out, to know that you’re a real person who works like me and has an actual life._ Some of the lust fell away at my sheepishness. My encounter with Jasmine the second she got home was filled with me trying not to overanalyze and look up every single female DJ in the entire city.

Luckily Jasmine talked me down from my ledge, but I was scared about what I’d do if V slipped up again, or even if I revealed something about myself.

I wasn’t ready at all to unveil V’s mystery, I wanted her to stay in my head, only where we could access each other when we needed to.

 _All good. I panicked too, it’s why I went out, needed some of that pent up energy released. This has been the weirdest week of my life._ I could tell she was tired, the volume of her voice in the link fluctuated greatly like she couldn’t control what level to think at.

 _I am a real person though. Maybe soon I’ll tell you a little more about what I’m like. Next time._ And with that, the emotions fell away in my chest and I felt the telltale silence of V being asleep from the other end.

I slid back down into my bed, sheets slightly dew from my sweat and I finally pulled the bedspread up. With a combination of thinking about Todd from work and clenching my thighs, I was able to extinguish the forest fire between my legs, finally feeling some neutrality as I glanced up at my ceiling.

I felt myself begin to drift off, finally putting an end to the rollercoaster of an evening which began with V’s sexcapades and then the plain-spoken talks about sex and self-gratification. Every time we find the time to chat I’m always uncovering something else about her that makes me lose my sanity slightly. The fact she occupied my head was the most rattling, but her sincere and passionate nature, contrast to my guarded and cold demeanor threw me for the greatest loop. I fell asleep once again pulling out scores of pieces of the puzzle I had begun to try and solve which was V.

Wait.

The fuck did she mean by ‘next time?’

~

The weirdest weeks of my life elapsed as V and I acclimated our new normal. Every single day I woke up with the inclination that this would be the time where I didn’t hear V’s chipper ‘good morning’ to me, or during the weekends hear the sound of thumping furniture, hair pulling, moans, and screams.

She seriously had a lot of sex.

We had gotten very good with communicating with the link, Fridays still served as our makeshift workshop days where we’d tinker around and find out what else we could do.

Then there was the topic of our dreams, which started to mend together.

It only really happened at nighttime but if we both drifted off simultaneously, more times than not I’d hear V’s voice in my dream or some makeshift personification of what I think she looked like. My image of her had fluctuated, I had originally imaged her as decades my senior because of her poise and how she was constantly a voice of my reason to my frequent mental ramblings and anxiety. But recently, and I’m sure it wasn’t her intention, I heard a sliver of an argument between her and her best friend Spencer, whose identity I had recently found out. It was pertaining to V’s drinking and how she “went over the limit for the week” Spencer expressed how she didn’t want to bury V at “such a young age.”

Spencer was a name that sounded familiar to me. There was a Spencer at Diablo, and I tried to not overanalyze that very fact, that V could be connected to someone at my place of employment, closer to me than I ever could imagine.

Speaking of V, and her name, I still didn’t know it.

Which sucked, because she found out my last name.

It was 11 days ago. I was at work, pissed at Todd, who always condescendingly referred to me as “Miss Hawthorne” and it apparently fell through and into the link.

V didn’t press on it then, she asked me 6 days ago, at 6:03 pm, when I got off work, a routine I’m sure she’s mastered at memorizing as I knew her habits as well.

The question came in the form of _Hawthorne?_ and it was all I needed to know from her.

My panic set in immediately, but V was V.

She didn’t push me. She let me know that she wouldn’t google me or try and find out my identity, especially if her finding out who I was would upset me.

V, however, did utter some famous last words those 6 days ago, which were, _Besides, there must be a bunch of Hawthorne’s across the world._ And she was right, there were, but it still didn’t ease my nerves.

This brings up the topic of today, or rather, the diarrhea inducing anxiety that today brings me.

It was our “one month anniversary” as V had preluded the entire weekend. Today was a Monday, I was up at my usual 7:00 AM to enter work.

Work wasn’t the culprit of the diarrhea inducing anxiety, which is the first thing I did this morning once I smashed my alarm. True to her schedule, at 7:12 AM, after losing a few pounds from defecating V gave me my greeting.

 _Mornin’_ Nothing extravagant, just something to let me know that she was awake.

I said nothing back, I usually didn’t.

From 7:15 AM to 7:30 AM was a combination of showering and brushing my teeth. No strident emotions from V’s side yet, her humming in my head was of our schedule as well.

No talks about our “anniversary” as I stepped out of the shower, or even padded over toward my closet in search of an outfit, my stomach grumbled once again, the anxiety wanting to enter the equation once more.

I knew V could feel it, but she wasn’t talking about my panic either.

It was peculiar.

I dressed. Navy blue power suit that Jasmine had picked up for me this past Saturday. I paired the suit with a black pocket square, black shirt, and black pumps. The shirt was a bit too tight for my liking, my breasts pressing against the cotton, and forcing me to leave some of the buttons undone and the expanses of my fair skin on display.

“You’re only 23, but damn you’re giving me MILF vibes with this suit,” Jasmine’s voice made me jump then clutch at my chest in the fright she had caused me.

I put my finger to my lips in a ‘shush’ pantomime then slipped off my heels to exit my closet then dart over toward the large desk I kept in my room.

Scribbling out a quick explanation of, ‘No talking this morning, I’m super pent up, V is acting weird, she keeps going on about our anniversary or whatever, I’m positive she’ll probably hear most of the conversations I have today,’ I slid the notepad with my pristine and font-like handwriting to Jasmine, who read the note with an unimpressed gaze on her face.

I could tell she wanted to say something to me.

But I pleaded so hard at her with my eyes.

Jasmine rolled her own and took the pen from my hands.

She scribbled back out to me, ‘I’m so sick of you two and your secrecy, you should just find out where she lives, fly her out here, fuck, then live happily ever,’ I read the note then my head flew up to Jasmine’s, who stood with her arms crossed, completely unfazed by my incredulous reaction.

‘What?’ I mouthed to her.

Jasmine scratched at the scarf containing her hair and shrugged, ‘What?’ she mouthed back to me then turned on her heel and strolled out of the room.

I grumbled incoherently under my breath and walked back to my closet. Slipping on my heels and begrudgingly moving towards my bathroom to do my hair for the day.

When I entered the kitchen at exactly 7:45 AM, Jasmine was prancing in her black spandex shorts and pink sports bra, chopping up fruits to toss into our Ninja blender. Opening the fridge to grab my lunch pail, I closed the door to see Jasmine pressing the operating button on the Ninja and the materials began to morph into her morning fruit smoothie.

 _Loud this morning are we?_ V. Right now.

I groaned, the sound slightly muffled by the Ninja but Jasmine took her finger off the button moments after then looked at me questioningly.

 _Sorry, I’m just a little wound up today, even though the day’s barely begun._ I responded to V while giving Jasmine a withering look.

Jasmine laughed to herself while pouring the smoothie into her container and taking a sip of its contents. V hummed in my head and remained quiet for a bit.

 _N, I know you’re wound up, I was hoping this time around we could work on you opening up to me of your volition, and not because your mood is forcing me to act a certain way._ That made me feel even worse and my pout deepened.

Setting my lunch pail on the island, I made eye contact with Jasmine then pointed toward the fruit on the counter.

‘You want?’ She mouthed to me, still respecting my rules, and I nodded.

 _I’m sorry, it’s hard for me, can we talk about this later? I’m about-_ I couldn’t finish my thought because V had interrupted me.

 _You’re about to go in for work, I know. As am I, but of course we can talk about it later, just try to not let it fester for too long, okay?_ I nodded even though she couldn’t see me.

I smiled a little to myself as well, the sound of the Ninja blending once more bringing me out of my own head and the woman that occupied it.

Jasmine capped my smoothie and placed it on the island next to my lunch box, I smiled at her graciously and she took my chin in her hands, honey brown eyes scanning my own.

“I’m giving you a bath when you get home,” My mouth dropped open when Jasmine openly spoke, but my cheeks flushed when V’s hearty laughter sounded off in my head like a siren.

“Tell V I said hello,” Jasmine smiled, dimples on display as she pranced back over toward her own smoothie and picked it up. Taking a sip she skipped back to her own room and shut the door behind her.

 _Enjoy your bath tonight N._ Of course, she was teasing me, she wouldn’t be such a menace if she wasn’t the equivalent to an 11-year-old brother.

 _Oh, fuck you._ I grumbled the words out to V who laughed then quieted.

Grabbing my lunch pail and checking the clock, 7:52 AM, which was the time I leave the house every day. Jasmine yelled out a farewell to me, and she’d be leaving the house soon, off to Limitless Dance, which was the studio she taught classes at.

I began my stroll to Diablo Publishing, heels clicking on the sidewalk while I exited the complex Jasmine and I lived at, V decided to chime in again.

 _You know, you make it so easy for me sometimes._ She spoke out again.

I paused in my walk, waiting for the right away to cross the street and I scoffed under my breath.

 _I don’t know what you mean._ It was a white lie. I had an idea of what she wanted to poke and prod at, but I didn’t want to bring it up.

 _I mean-_ V began, _You say ‘fuck you’ to me, N, do you know how many inappropriate things I could’ve said in response? And you call yourself a genius._ It wouldn’t be V if she wasn’t poking fun at my intellect in some capacity.

Though, when she did it I could tell it wasn’t coming from a place of maliciousness. Which was comforting.

 _I’m done talking to you, I’m almost at work anyway._ My eyes rolled when she pretended to sniffle and cry in my head. Her antics most of the time were annoying, but I grew used to them.

I saw the dark building of Diablo Publishing and the number of employees waiting to get into the building. I always found it funny to see which person in line would step in to hold the door, then desperately look around to find another person to take their spot.

I saw Todd Walker holding the door today, thin-lipped, pale skin, receding hairline at 31, and a misogynist at an LGBTQ publishing company; sounds like an oxymoron but he’s, unfortunately, a real person.

“Ah yes! HBIC here bright and early!” The line plateaued, the mass of bodies that filled the entrance, but I heard the voice of Tiana Richards over the mass of conversations between all of the people.

I turned my head to look at Todd’s assistant and she gave me a smile, standing in line next to me.

“HBIC today?” I questioned her because the woman, the same age as me, always had something particularly clever to say about my status at Diablo.

Tiana flashed a perfect smile and bumped hips with mine, “Yes, of course, Miss Hawthorne, what else should I call you?”

“Hello, Miss Richards,” Todd’s monotonous and deep voice sounded out toward the two of us.

I gave Todd a look, not a smile, I didn’t like him enough to smile at him.

“Mr. Walker-” Tiana nodded her head toward her boss then turned her attention back toward me, bubbly energy returning, “So, what do you want me to call you?” She was teasing me and I grinned at the woman.

I steeled my anxiety, anger at Todd, happiness at Tiana, and attempted to be as neutral as possible, only so V couldn’t hear the next part of the conversation.

“What about Editor? My title?” I spoke as if the answer was clear as day and Tiana rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Editor? More like the exec who will dogwalk you,” Tiana snickered while speaking then bumped hips with me again and winked. I took a large exhale and finally stopped suppressing my emotions for the sake of my identity and for V.

 _Did you hear that?_ I questioned the woman, I needed it for the sake of my sanity.

 _Hear what? Did something embarrassing happen to you? Because if I missed it I’m going to be pissed._ She sounded sincere and another sigh of relief left my lips.

 _You’re such an ass, you know that?_ I was joking, of course, my tone nothing but lighthearted, and V knew this and that’s when the laughter sparked up once again.

 _Hey N, guess what?_ V began and waited, probably wanting me to respond so that she could say whatever she wanted to say.

I rolled my eyes as the line moved forward, purposely giving V some silence. Todd finally passed the door off to another worker, taking a few strides ahead of Tiana and myself.

“Woah! Let me get that door for you-” I paused in my step. The voice was behind me, I looked back, a sea of heads and people’s height my senior as the workers rolled in Diablo.

I kept trying to look back, trying to find the source of the voice.

It sounded like-

No-

It couldn’t be V, not here, not so close to me.

 _Happy Anniversary._ V quipped back and fell away.

“Hey, you alright?” I felt a gentle touch at my bicep.

Tiana stared at me quizzically, probably because I think I just heard someone who I knew but didn’t know at the same time, and I had no clue how to explain it to Tiana or stop my pounding heart or even fathom on how to bring up the topic to V-

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a busy day today,” I shook my head and gave Tiana a reassuring smile. She smiled back and we trailed towards the elevators.

I only looked behind myself twice.

Despite wanting to stare, wanting to see if I could spot V without even knowing any physical attributes, I wanted to know if I could _feel_ her presence.

“You’re right! Super busy, but good news, that ghostwriter I found, I actually located some more their stuff, and Mr. Walker won’t give it the time of day so I thought I’d send the files directly to you?” Tiana glanced at me expectantly. Truthfully I heard her, but I wasn’t listening, her voice sounded muffled, minuscule compared to the barrage of thoughts in my head.

“Yeah, of course, Tiana, whatever you need,” I smiled at the ambitious young women and she returned the action, the two of us stepping into the elevator.

Work would put me in a routine, keep me grounded.

All so that I wouldn’t completely uproot V at whatever she was doing.

Hopefully not doing the same thing as me, in the same building as me, talking to the same people as me.

How many people did I know whose names started with V?

Two people; Vince and Valentino, both male, and their voices weren’t aphrodisiac worthy.

Happy Anniversary to me.

~

“Anyways, like I was saying, Dante is fucking Alegra, who’s fucking Bennet. Bennet is straight but thinks he might be into Dante, and Dante is bi along with Alegra, and _I_ think I want all three of them, foursome action, so- are you even fucking listening to me?” Jasmine cut her monologue short and glared at me.

I came out of my daze and looked at Jasmine apologetically, “Sorry, just had a weird day,”

“Still need that bath? You didn’t come in crazy-eyed but I’ll run it for you if you need it-” Jasmine moved to stand from the couch and I put my hand on her thigh and made her relax.

“No baths, I’m gonna go lay down and talk to V for a bit,” I looked at my sweatpant clad legs and sock-clad feet, Jasmine nodded and stood from the couch to walk over to her room.

“Come get me if you need that bath, okay?” I smiled at her final words before she shut the door.

I stood, walked over to my own room, and flopped face-first onto my bed.

 _You stressed me out with this anniversary mess._ I practically whined out the sentence to V, who chuckled after a few beats of silence.

 _I was excited, are you going to fault me for that?_ The tone was uncharacteristically serious and I rolled onto my back, looking up at the ceiling with furrowed eyebrows.

 _No, of course not, you didn’t know the discourse it would cause me, I’m not actually mad, well- I kinda am at myself, because I take everything to heart and-_ I stopped and bit my lip.

V stayed silent.

 _Why’d you stop?_ She asked me.

 _I don’t know._ I replied pitifully.

 _Yes you do, you’re a genius, you know why you do certain things and it probably annoys you that still can’t stop it._ She quipped back at me.

Silence.

 _You’re right._ I finally admitted it to her,

 _Ah, so you acknowledge the truth for once?_ Tease from her, then I rolled my eyes.

Silence.

 _I take everything to heart and I know it’s difficult for me to even control those emotions, but I can’t imagine the amount of corruption I cause for your every day life._ I finally said and then I felt ripples of anxiety peal away.

I felt like I could breathe again.

 _God, that feels so much better, doesn’t it?_ V’s voice rippled out again and I sighed.

 _You’re not causing me corruption. Believe me, I do that enough on my own._ She reassured me again and I continued to lay on my bed.

Silence.

 _Tell me something about you. When we first talked, like really talked, you said you’d tell me about yourself._ I found myself saying and I felt a little bit of shock from V’s end fill the gap between us.

 _Well, what do you want to know?_ The shock had fallen away, replaced with the suave that I had grown accustomed to.

 _Keep it vague, of course, but tell me anything._ I asked once more and heard the slight snicker in the air.

Amusement picked up between the gap, V laughed a bit.

 _So you want me to talk about myself but remain vague? Cool, got it, no problem._ The sarcasm cracked once again and I rolled my eyes once more.

 _You’re-_ I started but she cut me off.

 _-An ass, I know, though it’s not as big as I’d want it to be._ V was nonchalant and my mouth gaped.

 _V!_ I shouted, the equivalent of a teenager shouting ‘Mom!’ if they revealed something embarrassing. 

_Okay, okay, I’ll let up._ V ceased her teasing.

Silence.

 _I’m 5’11”_ Finally rang out from her end and my heart rate picked up ever so slightly.

 _Tall._ Was all I could muster.

 _Indeed._ Was all she could respond to me with.

We fell silent.

And like most of the time, I was fine with not talking.

I just knew she was there.

I knew what I thought about her being there too.

It scared me more than I could imagine.

__~_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *eyes mutual masturbation tag* Don't worry you guys, it's coming ;)
> 
> But how about that almost-encounter? You guys will get to see Valerian's p.o.v on that particular morning next chapter.
> 
> This is probably the most mellow chapter so far, but it's because the next two are about to get pretty spicy, especially Chapter 6, hold on to your hats and maybe grab a box of tissues while you're at it... but no spoilers!
> 
> Be wary once more that a small addition will probably be added for Nyota's workday, but once again I wanted to get this one posted and before I lengthened it any more.
> 
> Again, thank you guys for the support I've been getting, I love all of the feedback, comments, kudos, seeing my hits slowly rise, it's blowing my mind to slowly see traction getting added to the story.
> 
> Stay tuned for Chapter 5 because I think it's about to get a lil steamy up in here... ;)))


	6. Chapter 5: She's Asking About 'Next Time' So We Talked About Next Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _I’m having some thoughts, and they’re causing some visceral reactions._ N’s voice finally crackled to life and I breathed out a sigh.
> 
> Good, she was talking, if she was talking then that meant I could help her, that we could work through this. 
> 
> _What kind of thoughts?_ I fought the hitch from my breath, my right hand resting on my stomach, the skin slightly slick with sweat from the sheer lust coursing through my frame.
> 
>  _Inappropriate ones, things I don’t usually think about._ N was almost sheepish as she spoke like she was ashamed of being turned on."
> 
> _Or..._
> 
> Let's get ready for some mutual masturbationnnnnnnnnnnn. And panic attacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, hello :)
> 
> Secondly, how _dare_ you guys get this story past 100 hits? Like is 137 even a real fucking number? What the fuck, y'all spoil me...
> 
> This one's intense. And you bet your sweet ass I started it off with a 2.7k anecdote to characterize Valerian and to show how much she cares about Nyota as well, I'm not sorry. I'm also not sorry for the almost 3k words of smut and pure filth that awaits you because this was much dirtier than I had anticipated.
> 
> Trigger warning for blood, panic attacks, and past trauma, we're past the appetizer for this story and the main course is beginning, I'm about to put these girls through some hell so strap in.
> 
> Once more, thank you to the lovely individuals who have commented, I love you guys, as well as to the kudos I've gotten, I'm of course asking for more feedback in regards to the story and thoughts on where the plot has gone, were you expecting this route? Because it's a doozy.
> 
> But I will shut up now, hold onto your butts peoples because this one's a ride,
> 
> Enjoy xx.

_**Valerian** _

Anne Rose Cummings.

A senior at San Bernardino high school, a back spot for the Lady Cardinals, one year older than me, and the first girl that ever made me feel butterflies in my stomach. She was tall, 5’8” and she lived in pleated skirts with fishnets and platform boots. Her hair fell to her mid-back and when we returned to school in the fall of her senior year, I remember Anne asking me for a hair-tie so she could pull her hair up. Our hands brushed when I handed the elastic over to her during class and I remember I almost gasped out loud during the exchange. 

Her boyfriend was Biff Taylor. An adult-sized Teletubbie who thought the epitome of comedy were jokes about sexual assault and putting his finger down his pants and making his friends smell it. 

I didn’t like Biff for _obvious reasons,_ but I was never rude to him. The dude was jacked and could probably toss my 5’11” ass a few miles in his sleep, so I said hello to him in the halls, forced myself not to gag when he started up a conversation with me, usually at the expense of Anne because all of his scenarios began with, “What if you, me, and Anne ever did anything…? Like, wouldn’t that be so crazy?”

My junior year of high school was pretty mellow, by mellow I mean I dominated on the field, had the best draw ratio within my entire county and it started to get my coaches excited that I could be someone in this world. I cared about lacrosse, Spencer, my grades, but nothing compared to the times where I’d see Anne Cummings sitting pretty in the stands, watching me play, usually with a book in her hands by herself.

She was never the type of girl to have friends flock around her, nor did she follow other people like they were her livelihood. Anne was her own person and I struggled for a long time trying to figure out if I wanted to be more like her or if I wanted to be with her.

The question was answered for me during June of 2011. Specifically on June 2nd, Anne’s graduation day.

Spencer and I pulled up to SBHS Stockton Football Field, the last time being juniors ourselves, graduating next year, but it still felt surreal to see friends we had since our freshman year of high school finally growing up and moving on from the community they had lived in for years. To know that the next year it’d be me walking across the stage, walking into a new chapter of my life, hopefully with Spencer still pushing me to aim higher were feelings that I shelved for the time being.

I was here for Anne, I knew it, Spencer knew it.

Spencer teased me about it. I had been out as gay since 7th grade and I had dated before. Little 2 to 3 months flings here and there throughout my freshman and sophomore years of high school, but when I met Anne Cummings at a kickback during the summer of 2010 she was the only woman on my mind from then on.

Spencer and I found seats on the football field relatively close to the stage. Our seats were closer to the left side of the stage, where the graduates would step down after receiving their diplomas to return to their respective seats on the football field. I waited patiently through the A’s and the B’s, my body humming in anticipation when I saw Anne red-cheeked and grinning from the connecting platform which separated the on-deck graduates from the ones waiting on stage for their diplomas. 

“Anne Rose Cummings,”

I stood, clapping so fast and frequently my hands started to burn and tingle from the continuous contact.

I whistled at her as she received the diploma from the Superintendent, smiling at the photographer then moving toward the descending platform. 

It was almost like fate if I was particularly spiritual and believed in that sort of ideology. 

But she looked up at me and smiled, waving the diploma in my direction, and I mouthed a ‘Congratulations’ towards her and she winked then blew a kiss back at me.

I swore I fell in love at that moment. Even if my love was stupid, even if she had a boyfriend, even if Anne was straight and the fact she was graduating and moving on, I fell in love and I couldn’t stop it.

My legs gave out and I collapsed back into my seat, Spencer patting my back, “You’ve got it _baaaaad_ my lesbian compadre,” 

I could only nod because it was true, I did have it bad for Anne, I was tunnel-visioned onto her, which made sitting through the rest of the graduation, half-ass clapping for Biff when the T’s began to be announced that much more difficult. Afterward, when the graduates threw up their caps and the loved ones were allowed to approach their child on the field Spencer and I mingled around and gave our best wishes to the seniors that we did know, snapped a few pictures, took a few pictures for some families, all the while my eyes kept snapping towards Anne’s direction. She looked so happy amongst her relatives, even Biff’s when his family joined and my eyes fell back towards Spencer.

Once the space had begun to vacate, Spencer and I had finished our second-third-even-fourth go around on the field, Spence whipped out her newly purchased iPhone 4S and snapped a picture of the two of us, commemorating the event. 

“Can you believe this will be us next year?” I heard Spence call out to me and I shrugged, sinking my hands in my pockets and looking back at my friend. 

“I already had my mental breakdown about it the second we got here, I don’t need another,” I commented back while playfully elbowing her and Spencer giggled while elbowing me back.

I wrapped my arm around Spencer’s shoulders and the two of us started back toward the parking lot, to drive off in Spence’s dark blue 2008 s60 Volvo, which was filled with QuikTrip slushies and Mcdonalds’ wrappers. 

“C’mon, I’ll buy you a frosty and we can watch Jennifer’s Body once we get to your place,” I said to Spencer while we continued walking on the field, my friend cheered and pumped a fist in the air.

I saw Spencer’s mouth open, probably to make a lewd comment about Megan Fox, but a voice cut us off.

“Leaving without saying goodbye?” I froze, my arm dropped from Spencer’s shoulders.

I knew that voice, I was in love with that voice. 

I turned, seeing Anne Cummings still fitted in her cap and gown, diploma gone from her hands, and probably went with her relatives, who were nowhere to be seen. Actually, the two of us were one of the last people left on the field. I felt Spencer pat my back and tell me she’d be waiting in the car, I couldn’t respond to her because I was frozen in place, still staring at Anne who stood about a dozen feet away from me. Gathering up courage I didn’t know I had, I placed my hands back into my pockets and approached Anne, our heights were the same, my eyes glanced at the heels she wore, pressing into the grass on the field.

My gaze trailed higher, meeting Anne’s hazel one and she exhaled a little. 

“I’m still waiting,” She snarkily commented while crossing her arms and giving me a knowing look. 

“What if I don’t like goodbyes?” I did my best impersonation of a cringy teenage boy on a soap opera, something Anne and I had made fun of in the past and she laughed immediately afterward.

“God, that was terrible, I hope you know that,” She pushed my shoulder back playfully as she spoke and I grinned again, wagging my eyebrows comically  
at her.

“Your family was surrounding you, along with Biff’s, I didn’t want to intrude because I’m not even certain if your parents know who I am or-” I stopped when Anne’s eyes narrowed.

She balanced most of her weight onto her left hip and her head cocked to the side.

“What makes you think I don’t talk about you?” Anne got serious, she was capable of completely changing the atmosphere of a conversation on a dime and I gulped to myself.

“I- um-” I stuttered, she was looking at me, expectant.

She was just _so_ pretty, it was unfair.

“I guess, I just never thought I was important enough for you to have anything to say about me. We had a single class together this year and I didn’t know if you thought we were as close as I thought we were,” I bit my lip afterward, seeing Anne digest the truth I just fed to her. 

She didn’t answer me, just started walking toward the home field stands for sporting events. I watched her walk away before she turned and gave me a sly grin waving me over and I forced my jellied legs to move as I caught up to her side. We walked from the grass field onto the track, slipping around the gate then moving up the stairs of the bleachers. Anne led us to the middle row, dead center of the stands. She sat slowly then motioned for me to sit next to her, so I did.

“I sat right here to watch you play,” She turned back toward me.

Anne moved to take off her cap right as the lights in the stadium powered off. She and I laughed and it was extremely dark but I could make out the shape of Anne’s face in front of me.

I blinked a few times, getting used to the lack of light and I cleared my throat.

“I know that. I always thanked you for coming to my games, it was generous, you didn’t have to do that,” I looked at her, seeing some movement and realizing Anne was shaking out her hair.

She scooted closer to me and I tried my best to quiet my heart, fearful because of how frequent it was beating that Anne could somehow hear it and realize how nervous I was.

“I would’ve come to more games, but you never gave me your schedule- Val,” She bumped shoulders with mine and I smiled, the laughing not calming the storm of emotions in my heart.

“I didn’t know you liked to watch me, I never knew you were interested…” I trailed and my gaze flicked back up to Anne.

I watched her fiddle with a few buttons on her smartphones before a light illuminated between the two of us, she looked at me, a whimsical look in her eyes.

“Yes, you never did know that I was interested- Val,” She replied in the same tone as before but didn’t bump shoulders with mine this time.

I just kept staring. “But how- And you- I thought- Biff?” The broken sentence made its way out of my mouth and Anne’s whimsical expression didn’t leave her face.

“He knew, he was trying to push you in my direction, hence all the enthusiastic offers for threesomes-” She giggled a little, “Though in hindsight I see why you kept declining, I’m bi but having sex with Biff sounds like a nightmare,” She feigned a shiver and kept her eyes on mine.

“I didn’t know a damn thing about lacrosse. All I knew was that I was going to see your legs and I was sold,” her hand crossed the gap and slid onto my thigh.

I felt my body spring into action, I turned towards her once more, our faces close, but they could be closer, they could be touching, and I still couldn’t believe this was happening.

“So this entire year you’ve been banging your head on the wall by how much I can’t take a hint?” I let myself ask her, my voice surprisingly even.

“Pretty much, I even let you cop a few feels at prom and you didn’t drag me to the bathroom afterward, I was severely disappointed,” I gulped after she spoke.

Anne leaned in more, our breaths in the same space, foreheads slowly pressing together. 

“I just always thought you were out of my league and-” I stopped, leaning away from her slightly.

“-Straight,” Anne finished for me and her hand squeezed my thigh for a moment before relaxing.

“It’s okay, it’s been an awakening senior year, to say the least,” and that made my breath catch in my throat.

“Oh- um-” I stuttered again, preparing to apologize and Anne shushed me.

“Valerian. I was attracted to you the second I saw you and from that, I discovered my bisexuality. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about or even apologize for,” her hand rose from my thigh to my cheek, she cradled my head and our eyes never broke their stare.

“I fell in love with your charm. The snapping wit, the surefire intelligence and the fact you know you’re often underestimated,” My hand darted out now, grazing the surface of Anne’s thigh, covered by the gown but still touching her nonetheless.

“I’m in love with you too,” Was all I could say and Anne giggled.

“I know, now will you please kiss me?” I stammered again before I felt Anne’s hand on my cheek to bring my head forward and our lips connected.

There they were, those damn butterflies. I felt so much at that moment, the relief that maybe Anne and I could become something, the anxiousness about myself still spending a year in high school while Anne potentially waited on me. Fear that Anne could leave, break my heart, or even that I could hurt her. And I also felt the softest pair of lips on mine, the two of us pressing against each other hesitantly before the kiss unlocked an entire year of repressed emotions and feelings and we melted together.

I had never felt this way, with so much love, so many feelings for another person in my life, I wanted Anne to be my forever, my beginning, and the ending of my story.

When we broke up, at my graduation the next year I’ve never felt like that in my young 17 years. But even in the low, in the lull I felt, I remembered how good it was to love Anne, for her to love me. To still see her at my lacrosse games, to come over to her house and meet her parents, to kiss and touch her.

I went into Mercy College knowing no other woman could be my Anne, could be like her to me.

I was right. None of the women were like her. None of them could make me feel what she made me feel.

Then N sauntered into my life.

N blows Anne Rose Cummings out of the water.

N takes what 16-year old me felt that evening on June 2nd, 2011, and quadruples it. I forget about Anne when I talk to N, and I don’t even know what she looks like.

N could be my forever, and she might already be, considering the fact I’m not sure if it’s possible for the two of us to ever be alone again. I used to be scared of the idea but it doesn’t sound bad to me anymore, in fact, dying with N in my head and the two of us taking our last breaths together sounds like a good way to go.

A perfect ending.

~

The morning of N and I’s one-month anniversary was an interesting one. I woke up anxious for one and I immediately could sense it was N bugging out about something, probably the fact she and I had been entangled for the entire month of September together, a whole 30 days, with no inclination of the connection beginning to wither. But I also knew the emotions were N’s because of how they felt, the two of us have begun to differentiate who feels what and when based on how those emotions play out.

For instance, N’s anxiety causes me breathing problems, pressure on my chest, the need to shit to alleviate some that tension. Whereas my own anxiety comes in the form of fidgeting; shaky hands, eyes that dart across the room, the inability to sit down. So when I woke up this morning, my stomach grumbling and breathing coming out uneven, I knew it was N.

The morning flew by normally, with a little more ambient sounds blending through on N’s side than what I was used to, though I heard no voices until Jasmine’s remark about bathing N rang out clear as day.

I heard N commute to work, the noises fizzling out slightly as I assumed she had gotten a grip on some of that anxiety she felt after I talked to her about opening up to me. My silence that morning was intentional, it wasn’t like I _couldn’t_ feel what she felt, it was the opposite. I just wanted N to open up to me on her own accord. We had made some breakthroughs though, each of us sharing tiny bits about our pasts. I cracked open the vault of drunk college stories and then alluded to N about my drinking problem, especially after she admitted that she heard an argument between myself and Spencer regarding my alcoholism.

I opened up to her, then she returned. 

She talked to me about some vivid stories between the girls she grew up with, mostly with her defending herself from their constant verbal barrage, most of her comebacks to their petty insults causing tears to form in my eyes from laughter. N talked to me about how when she was a child, especially with the elevated intellect, she just noticed things that most kids would look over, or lies that she would hear parents tell their kids. 

N talked to me about the fact that one of her parents’ closest friends was having an affair with another man and how she had known for three years. That made my jaw drop and I had an entirely new level of respect for N, I could tell she had grown up with a family, she references to her parents all the time, usually with disdain in her voice, but I knew she felt alone as a child.

I knew it, but I could feel it too. 

_A desolate childhood._ Was what she described it as.

So that morning, on our anniversary, I chose to let her know that she didn’t have to hold her emotions inside, that she wasn’t alone in this ordeal, but to not feel alone she had to open up to me, to reach out to me, to let me know what was bothering her so that we could work through it together. 

After that chat, I felt most of the anxiety lift. While N was in commute to her job the background noises had dropped out completely, and I had stepped out of my apartment to walk down toward Diablo Publishing. Spencer usually walked with me but she had gone into the basement earlier for some manager business, I didn’t ask her about it because I wasn’t interested in doing extra work for the mailroom.

I can say, however, the extra pay did help. Spinning for Niki at Neon had become a luxury past time for me. I was paying the bills, living a lot more comfortable because of working at Diablo, which made Spencer get off my back and stop giving me dirty looks every time I’d tell her to swing by Neon during the weekend. 

Working at Diablo was interesting, the mailroom seemed like the floor with the most synergy and cohesion. All three services offered in the mailroom; IT, Construction, and Distribution of Packages were frequently workers that worked in the multiple hubs. Vivianne, the woman who trained me, was primarily IT, but she was running that day. For a worker like me, only functioning in the warehouse to run packages was a rarity.

Each of the floors for each genre of novel that Diablo was responsible for publishing was like an entirely new company. 

The Mystery genre was the floor with the rudest staff. I quickly learned after a few days on the job when the other runners were deliberately passing off their totes to me because I didn’t know any better. The Romance and Fantasy floors had the friendliest staff and I was making trips to those specific floors often, I had met some of the executives while delegating packages, which was surprising as I had never even come onto the radar of any of the higher-ups in the company.

The Erotica floor was the most mysterious. Meaning, I only knew Tiana, and she was a sight by herself. I shamelessly flirted with her every time I had the opportunity to head to the highest floor in the entire building. The executives for Erotica had flashy cars, fat salaries, they were the ones that had the most say in the company because Erotica was the most lucrative genre for Diablo Publishing.

Even Spencer, someone very well respected and connected at Diablo didn’t have much information for me when it came to the Erotica executives. 

So, I took it upon myself to investigate. Not online, but in the flesh.

When I arrived at work on the day of N and I’s anniversary, two things happened;

One, I saved the huge black entrance doors from colliding on one of my coworkers. She was dressed more sharply than me so I assumed she was a worker on one of the floors and not employed in the basement.

“Woah! Let me get that door for you-” My hand darted out, pushing the heavy door back and the woman looked up at me and smiled, I returned the gesture then passed the door off to a taller man standing behind me, ready to take up the mantle on courtesy.

I entered the swamped lobby, though I was used to the sight of the hundreds of employees standing about, waiting for their turns on the elevators. I had the gloves I used for work tucked into the waistband of my slacks, my feet in Converse, a jacket draped across my shoulders, and my hair tied back. My work attire had gotten more casual when I realized my job called for a lot more cardio and physical labor than I originally gave it credit for.

I checked my watch, 8:00 AM on the dot, and I proceeded to stand in the long line of workers waiting for a ride in the elevator.

My eyes glanced up, sensing some movement out of my peripheral, and I saw Tiana waving at me enthusiastically from inside one of the elevators. I returned the gesture, seeing her tap the arm of an unknown person to the side of her, but another worker had stepped in my line of sight so I couldn’t see who it was.

I saw a few strands of blonde hair from the nameless person but the doors to the elevator closed and my heart lurched immediately afterward. I didn’t know why, my body hummed, and I clenched my jaw on the spot, waiting for the feeling to surpass.

 _You feel that?_ The question hung in the air for a few beats after I sent it to N.

 _...For once, the feeling is not mutual between the two of us._ Her response unnerved me.

I frowned, the logic not making sense.

 _That’s odd._ I commented back, I heard N hum.

 _Well, what does it feel like? Maybe I feel it too but I just don’t recognize it?_ N said back to me and I gulped for a moment, stepping forward in the line toward the elevators.

Longing. That’s exactly what it was, heart-wrenching longing for another person.

 _I’m not sure either, I can’t place it, hopefully, it’ll go away on its own._ I don’t know why I lied, but the feeling fell away as soon as I stepped in the elevator.

“B please,” I said to the man closest toward the column of buttons, he complied wordlessly and I tried to shake away my worries about the fact I felt something that N didn’t resonate with, or worse, didn’t feel at all.

It was the first time it had happened in these 30 days and I didn’t like the thought of not sharing something with her.

It petrified me.

~

“Shut up right now, you did _not_ ,” Tiana had a death grip on my bicep as I recalled the story of when I pined after the TA for my philosophy class during my junior year of university.

The same story I told N just a week prior.

“I did, laid her out in the lecture hall and everything, the door wasn’t even locked,” I giggled while setting down the last of my packages for my shift, reaching the climax of the story, then taking off my gloves.

“So, T-” I had begun the habit of shortening Tiana’s name as she had given me a similar nickname in ‘V’ which only helped me maintain my ambiguity, on the off chance N ever heard me conversate.

Tiana took a glance at me as well as walked me back toward the elevator, grabbing the dolly I had used for a particularly large package for one of the executives, “What’s the business on the Erotica staff? I never hear anything about you guys,”

It was nonchalant enough for her not to detect that I was prying.

“I always hear that allegation from the other floors-” She laughed a little, her heels clicking on the ground and echoing down the halls. “Well, for your assistants, there’s me, Valentino, Vince, Dorian, Michelle, Ana, Trinity, and Lance,” Tiana finished her statement with jazz hands and I laughed.

I lifted the dolly and placed it in the tote, looking back at Tiana expectantly. 

She continued, “Excluding the publicists and PR managers because there’s just too many to name, the executives would include, Miles, Archibald, Lorraine, Diane, Jude, Vanessa, and Todd,” then completed her sentence with a little curtsy.

I rolled my eyes at her antics then cocked an eyebrow at her, “That’s only 7 execs, for 8 assistants?”

Tiana seemed to be anticipating this question because she grinned, wide, “Todd employed Vanessa and me because one of the executives-” Tiana cut herself off then leaned toward me, speaking in a whisper, “-my favorite one-” She leaned back and tossed some of her hair from her face, “She’s just so much of a bad bitch that she prefers not to have an assistant in the first place,” Tiana shrugged and laced her fingers in front of herself.

“Huh,” I nodded my head, a bit intrigued by the mystery woman. 

My mouth opened to ask the name of the woman but it snapped shut by a very indignant clearing of a throat.

“Miss Richards, never shying away from a conversation I see-” The voice was deep but incredibly dull, his tone condescending. 

My head turned to look at the man. He was my height, maybe an inch my senior, receding hair, pale skin, ill-fitting suit.

“-Even if it’s from the help,” He eyed me up and down, no doubt holding himself and his status above the workers in the basement.

I scoffed and cleared my throat, looking at Tiana, “See ya T,” she waved at me apologetically then turned towards the man. “Apologies Todd, I’ll get back to work now,” was what I heard before the elevator doors shut and I had never heard Tiana speak so passively before.

I tried not to stumble out of the elevator when I reached the warehouse once the brain blast hit me. All the memories of N ragging on a man named Todd at her job entering my psyche like a three punch combination in a boxing match. My breathing was ragged by the time I reached the breakroom with my locker after I had clocked out, Spencer had walked in a few minutes after me.

“Hey, you okay chica?” She stared at my flushed face and I cleared my throat.

“Yeah, think I might be coming down with something, wasn’t feeling too well today,” The lie flew out easy, though considering the heart lurching this morning and that questionable burrito I had from a nearby food truck for lunch, I could be speaking something into existence.

Spencer frowned and pulled her jacket from her locker, I grabbed my own jacket and shut the compartment, facing my friend head-on.

“You sure this isn’t some N mumbo jumbo? I know she makes you feel a little wacky,” Spencer stared at me while I tried not to panic and laughed off her question. 

I slid the jacket over my shoulders and pulled out my hair from underneath the collar, sniffling for effect and making eye contact with Spencer once more, I lied.

“No, Spence, It’s not her,” My voice was even and she left it alone.

Though later that night, an evening talk with N, where I told her my height and she opened up to me some more my brain refused to stop working once N had drifted off into sleep.

I mean, how many assholes Todd’s can there be in the city? Especially like the one at Diablo, N called him condescending, a misogynist, a _“shrimp dick motherfucker,”_ in her latest words. 

Just from that one sentence, when he spoke to me, I could feel that the Todd I met today was exactly that. Which made me wonder, just _who_ was the executive that Tiana _didn’t_ get to tell me about? The bad bitch of a woman that Tiana Richards idolized?

Could that be N? Were those strands of blonde hair the mystery woman I celebrated my one month anniversary within the elevator that morning? Was the longing I felt because we were in close proximity? Is that why N couldn’t feel it, because she couldn’t sense my presence?

It was too much all at once. One thing I knew for sure was that I was happy N was asleep, or at least not at the direct reciprocation of mental hurdles I was jumping over.

I didn’t want to cause her that strife, I already cared about her way too much for it to even make any sense.

~

Frankie and I had slipped into an easy FWB relationship. I used the word friend here loosely because she and I didn’t do much talking.

I was too busy making her scream for us to chat about the weather or gossip.

I usually didn’t sleep with the same person more than once but I saw her and her girls roll into Neon the weekend before Halloween and it was just deja-vu from Escándalo a few weeks prior. Her eye-fucking me while skating impressively, legs moving tantalizing, blue eyes reaching mine in the DJ booth. She beckoned me onto the floor and I rolled my eyes at her antics, almost ruining my boyshorts from letting my mind stray too far from my job for the time being.

I almost broke Frankie _and_ my bed that night.

Unfortunately, with Halloween coming up this weekend, and Neon being closed for the holiday, Niki telling me it was something to do with the bad energy the holiday caused, I was alone, and Frankie was out of town for the occasion. 

Without work and Spencer having her own booty call to rely on, then there was my dilemma and anxiety of hitting the nightlife on my lonesome, I realized that I was going to be stuck in my apartment for the evening. I passed the time by dusting off my action figure collection, taking my vinyl of Cherrelle’s _Fragile_ and tidying up my living space, I replayed the record a few times, wishing to myself that I could get the chance to relisten to an album as masterful as this one for the first time.

I hadn’t realized how deep in the night it got until I padded into my kitchen, checking the clock on my microwave and seeing 2:12 AM staring back at me. It was then when I made the point to look at my apartment and I saw the extent of my cleaning. It looked cleaner than when I purchased it 2 months ago. I leaned against my counter and smiled to myself, turning to reach into my fridge and grab a water bottle for myself, I took a few sips, then set the bottle down.

Some emotions swirled in my chest, rapidly fluctuating, but never finding a home into a feeling I could recognize.

Then I gasped and my thighs clenched together.

It was the equivalent of a schoolgirl in a Hentai getting turned on.

I _knew_ it wasn’t me, and if it wasn’t me, then…

 _Um, I don’t mean to intrude if you are doing anything, but just a little warning next time?_ It came out more squeaked over to N than I originally wanted but I heard a hushed ‘Fuck’ from her side of her link before I was scrambling back toward my bed.

Silence.

I was _not_ comforted by it. I was seconds away from writhing on my bed, sighing then sitting up and I pulled at the neckline of my shirt and tossed it over my head, then tugged at the waistband of my sweatpants and did the same. Since it wasn’t me who was horny there wasn’t much I could do to alleviate the pressure, the _heat_ of it all.

 _I’m having some thoughts, and they’re causing some visceral reactions._ N’s voice finally crackled to life and I breathed out a sigh.

Good, she was talking, if she was talking then that meant I could help her, that we could work through this. 

_What kind of thoughts?_ I fought the hitch from my breath, my right hand resting on my stomach, the skin slightly slick with sweat from the sheer lust coursing through my frame.

 _Inappropriate ones, things I don’t usually think about._ N was almost sheepish as she spoke like she was ashamed of being turned on.

Silence.

Every waking moment seemed to only spur the arousal on, it was only building for me, but I knew if I took care of myself I wouldn’t be relieved because it wasn’t my arousal that we were dealing with.

 _V?_ Finally speaking after some beats of silence.

 _Yes?_ I tried to stay as relaxed as possible, not wanting to tease N at the wrong time especially when she felt so vulnerable at this moment.

 _Can we talk about ‘Next Time?’_ For any other person, the words would’ve been cryptic, obscure, but I knew exactly what she was referring to.

She asked about ‘next time’ so we talked about next time.

 _Of course, what do you need me to do?_ I remained cool, my tone inviting, I wanted to help N, I wanted her to continue to open up to me.

Me mentioning ‘next time’ was something that had happened over a month ago. When I had first slept with Frankie, I knew the notion of us simultaneously touching ourselves to mitigate the lust wasn’t going to be something N was going to forget, even if N wasn’t a genius she wouldn’t have forgotten it either.

But her bringing it up now? I couldn’t help but feel some that arousal latch itself onto me. 

_I just-_ I heard a gasp, and I bit my lip, _-I just need you to talk me through this, help me through this._ I writhed slightly on my bed, my head smacking back against my pillow.

“Fuck-” I cursed under my breath and let out a deep sigh.

 _How do you usually touch yourself? Where does it happen? What’s the mood like? What do you think about?_ My voice had a bit of a tremor, even I could admit the subject matter was beginning to affect me, and the waves upon waves of lust N was emitting wasn’t going to aid my composure.

 _I usually self-gratify in the shower, it’s easier that way, and I can-_ She stopped, and I felt the sheepishness.

I tried not to pry, but my body was screaming and I was getting desperate.

 _You can what?_ The coolness to the tone had left, replaced with a heaviness in my tone, complete urgency.

Uncharastically, however, N didn’t push me back, I guess she was too far gone in her lust.

 _That way I can think about someone being there with me._ I had never heard N so husky before, but that large and amazing brain of hers was being taken hostage by her bodily needs.

I writhed again, hips undulating by their own accord. 

_So think about the shower. The water hitting your skin, the heat, the steam, and think someone being in that shower with you-_ I hissed at the sharp wave of heat that hit the apex between my legs.

I clenched my thighs together, my skin now completely sweaty, and my fingers itched to touch _something,_ pinch a nipple, grasp my breast, slip underneath my boyshorts, slip _inside_ myself. 

_I think I want that someone to be you._ My breath caught in my chest at the admission from N.

 _Yeah?_ I breathed back, the shock falling away, the lust only multiplying.

 _Yessss…_ She whined out back at me and I shut my eyes, trembling slightly.

 _Fuck._ I couldn’t help the curse and I heard a moan let out from N’s side.

 _So think about that shower N, think about me, think about what my hands are going to do to you, what I’m going to say to you, how good I’m going to make you feel._ I let my instincts take over and my eyes closed.

Once they shut it was like my whole world blacked out. I heard nothing but the sounds of N’s whimpers and… running water?

The smell of soap and shampoo filled my nostrils, I stayed in the scenario, in whatever scene N was so engrossed in she didn’t realize she had pulled me into it as well. 

_Where are you in the shower right now?_ I asked her, with my eyes closed, I played into the fantasy more, maybe it could become more real for me if I pictured myself there as much as N wanted me to be there. Needed me to be there.

Then I felt the water droplets hitting my skin, my physical being in my bedroom becoming a thing of the past as I felt I materialized in this shower with N. She stood there in front of me, it was a randomized face of a beautiful woman, I had no idea what she looked like, but the hair color matched that of the fleeting blonde strands I had seen in the elevator standing next to Tiana on N and I’s anniversary almost a month ago.

 _I’m facing the wall, letting the water run down my back, and you’re staring at me, that’s usually where I begin._ She stammered a bit and the image flickered but I stepped toward her in the shower.

 _I’ll press my body against yours-_ Then replicated my words, N gasped in my head and my image of her in the shower gasped as well. 

_Spin me, make me face you._ N asked of me and I complied, keeping my eyes shut, the realistic nature of the shower only becoming more lifelike once I spun N in my arms, we stared at each other. Her face had remained stagnant but her eyes faded from color to color.

 _Kiss me._ N asked of me and I complied, once again.

The feeling was strange. Kissing someone in your head but feeling the press of their body against yours, their lips tangling with your own, a tongue slipping into my mouth, N’s nail digging in my shoulders and I pinned her against the wall, my knee slotting between her legs. I felt her need, her urgency, she wanted me to touch her and I wanted nothing more than to follow those orders.

My hand on my bed, in physicality, had moved unbeknownst to myself. My fingers had just reached my breasts as N in the shower sighed out and into my mouth. I sucked on her tongue and then popped the muscle back, pressing her harder against the wall, feeling N grind herself harder on the thigh I had pressed against her cunt.

 _Your touch feels amazing._ She breathed into my mouth and our lips continued to lock and disconnect, her mouths roaming over each other’s necks, jaws, ears.

My fingers tightened on my nipple in my bedroom and I gasped in the shower, my eyes staying on N.

 _I’m rubbing my clit but I want you to taste me, taste what you did to me._ N struggled to form words as I dropped to my knees in the shower, my other hand climbed up and onto my stomach in my bedroom, my fingers only playing with the waistband of my boyshorts, but the second my mouth in the shower sucked a dark mark on N’s hipbone and she groaned and grabbed a handle of my hair as my fingers dipped underneath my underwear.

 _Two fingers inside myself but I want your mouth wrapped around my clit._ N practically choked out the sentence, her teeth gritted and my hands gripped her hips tightly in the shower.

The water soaked my hair, letting the shoulder-length brown locks fall down my back as I pressed a kiss to either of her thighs, pushing N’s legs apart in the shower.

 _Beg._ The command was simple and it came from my lips. I heard a guttural moan from N in the shower and on her side the second the word left my lips and I stared up at her, rapidly changing eyes flickering before landing on blue irises.

 _Please…_ It came out as a whine and I heard the wet sounds from N’s side, it was rhythmic, probably her pussy contracting and taking the length of her fingers again and again.

 _You’re fucking drenched aren’t you?_ Pure filth from my lips.

N in the shower almost collapsed from the words but I held her hips and kept her upright, looking at the pink and overly swollen pussy in front of me, her clit erect and aching to be touched.

My hand laid on her mound in the shower, just as my fingers in my bedroom began to circle my clit. In the shower, I finally touched her where she needed me, the pad of my thumb rubbing experimentally over her clit, seeing the full-body shudders I was the culprit of every time my thumb just _barely_ pressed into the highly sensitive bundle of nerves.

 _Fuck- I feel you in two places-_ N, shocked, let out the revelation for me and I heard the wet, slopping, noises of N’s drenched cunt only begin to increase as I finally ceased my teasing of her in the shower and took a tentative lick at her pussy.

N moaned, low in her throat, fingers tightening on my hair as I watched her blue eyes flutter then shut. My fingers kept circling their way on my clit, in my bedroom as I lazily licked around N’s clit in the shower. N, eager as all hell, roll her hips to meet my tongue, a scream emitted from her throat and the damn wet sounds increasing.

 _Three fingers, fucking three fingers fucking myself, please just suck on my clit, I need it, please, please V-_ N was quivering, her legs shaking and I feared she would collapse again and I grabbed a handful of her ass and buried my face between her thighs.

My tongue was relentless, swiping up and down, side-to-side, but finally reaching those perfected circles with N’s clit in the shower as her moans began to staccato much like how the wet noises and the sounds of her fucking herself became frequent in my head. 

_Fuck, your tongue, my fingers, it’s too much-_ I heard her again, my eyes staying on the heavily lidded gaze from N in the shower.

My fingers entered myself and I groaned, eyes still squeezed shut on my bed but my other hand lightly touched at my own clit. The pressure was light, but my long fingers stretched myself out, heading slowly to the hilt, before pulling back out to just my fingertips. The rhythm was maddening, just a little less than what I needed to cum and my hips rolled in time on my bed. My fingers at my clit were just above the hood, lightly pressing on the soft and drenched skin of the erect bud between my legs.

“Fuck-” I let out again and my fingers dove inside myself once more, curling up to hit the sweet spot and if my eyes weren’t already closed, deep within the fantasy with N, they would’ve just by the pure pleasure I was giving myself and N.

Which, speaking of the shower, I felt N hands digging in my hair, canting her hips to meet my tongue and pulling my head aggressively to where she needed me. She was using my tongue and lips like they were hers for the taking and good God if that didn’t fucking make me soaked. I fought back, gripping more of her asscheeks and pressing my head further between N’s thighs, my lips sprung into action, sucking lightly at her clit before the combination of licking and sucking began. 

I toyed with the sensitive bud, swirling my tongue until N trembled before I popped it into my mouth, sucking the muscle right as N’s legs began to lock up before I released the bud, kissing her thighs and beginning to build the stimulation again. The pace was breaking N down, her moans becoming desperate, her voice cracking, her begging only increasing, needing me to provide her with the release that would ultimately bring her to a state of pleasure I wasn’t sure she could handle.

The two of us went on for a while. My fingers destroying my cunt as I never fucked myself with such vigor and speed beforehand, as I only imagine I mimicked N in her bed, outside of the shower fantasy as her moans were few and far between. Her gasps were frequent, the curses of _Fuck- shit! Please, please, pleaseeee…_ were more frequent.

I imagined she was close but my teasing tongue with her in the shower was keeping her from dropping over the edge.

 _Please…_ She begged again, her eyes, still blue, locking with mine, the running water still trickling down my back.

 _Please what? 176 IQ girl like yourself is going to have to articulate your point._ I teased her, biting her wet thigh for good measure and leaving another mark.

 _Please just let me cum, I’ve been waiting, aching, my pussy has swallowed up my fingers but it isn’t enough. I’m dripping onto my mattress, I’m delirious with this lust, I just want you, please just give me what I need, what we both need and let me cum V._ I panted slightly, both in fantasy and in reality.

My fingers slowed, the tips only slightly rubbing over my g-spot as I groaned again.

 _As you wish._ I remarked before drilling into myself, I was that wet, it didn’t even hurt, that’s how much N was affecting me with this fantasy, and with these thoughts of hers.

It didn’t take much, my lips wrapped around the bud again, tongue flicking her clit in my mouth, once, twice, and then N went off like a rocket, taking me with her too.

It got blurry after that, the shower fantasy fizzled, N most likely not having the mental capacity to sustain something so realistic while entering a state of euphoria because of her orgasm.

Which I heard every gasp, moan, and curse of.

It was pure beauty.

My orgasm came, at the same time as N’s, but I was too busy listening to her lose herself in pleasure than to worry about the fact that I needed to change the sheets on my bed immediately afterward. I sagged, sweaty, wet between my legs, a little bit of ringing in my left ear, but utterly spent and satiated.

 _Are you okay? You kinda entered the Twilight Zone there for a second._ The humor was well-intentioned from my end, and the lust was finally gone but a feeling replaced it that I wasn’t expecting.

Panic.

Stomach-churning, shortness of breath panic. 

N’s.

 _Hey… Just calm down okay? What we did, it was together, we lost ourselves together, we fucked ourselves together, I came right alongside you and there’s nothing to panic about or to be ashamed of._ It didn’t help, in fact, it made things much worse.

 _I can’t do this with you, be this with you. I thought I could be okay with sharing a mind with a stranger but it’s gone too far, I feel too much, of anything, of you, I can’t-_ N was stammering as she spoke to me, completely spiraling.

 _N-_ I tried, but she cut me off me.

 _-Don’t try and talk me out of this. I was right from the beginning, we don’t need each other, I never needed you, we’re just freakshows that need to find a way to separate, to get back to the way things are supposed to be._ N’s panic was teetering on anger.

I was scared. Scared of what N was going to try to do to get rid of me, scared of what this heavy wave of anger was going to force me to do.

 _Just think about this, think about me, we what had, what we just did. It was a union of our emotions, of us being vulnerable, of us trusting each other. Of something even more that we feel. N, we’ve made so much progress on you being able to open up to me, aren’t you going to miss that if I leave you?_ Hot tears streamed down my face and panic transitioned.

My attempts had failed and I lost myself in the rage. In her rage.

 _I. Don’t. Need. You._ Her tone held so much finality and I knew there was no going back.

 _It’s not about need. It’s okay to want, it’s okay to want the things we’ve created together, the memories we have, the emotions we share-_ I fought off the wave of anger as well I could but before I knew I was screaming at the top of my lungs and slamming my head into my mattress.

 _Get out of my head! Get out of my head! Get out of my head! Get out of my head! Get out of my head! Get out of my head! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!_ The last one hit a particular chord in me and I rose from my bed and I stomped around my apartment, my heavy steps causing the floorboards to rumble. My action figures on my shelves to shake.

My body was shaking and I locked eyes with my fridge, crossing my way into my kitchen, and without another thought, in the world, I reared my head back and slammed my cranium into the appliance. I didn’t register the pain, I was too far gone, and I pulled back and repeated the action, slamming my head into my fridge. The blood dripped from the gash in my forehead and I dismissed it. Looking at the handle I leaned my neck back again, and with a blood-curdling yell, I reared back and slammed my head into the refrigerator, the handle pressed directly on the scar in my eyebrow and I jerked backward afterward.

More blood seeped from the years-old scar and I stumbled to my knees in my apartment. Making the effort to slam my head against every single cupboard and countertop on the way down. I was panting, my eyes were shut, my ears were ringing, and all I saw was carnage, and the blood dripped in my mouth, my _own_ blood.

The smell of gasoline, the impact of the tree, the airbags hitting my face.

The alcohol, drowning my sorrows, losing something that meant so much to me.

Knowing I’d never pick up a pen and write ever again.

And then chlorine, so much chlorine.

Muffled screams and my peace at the decision I had made.

I sank so calmly, at my own pace, my own volition.

Then I collapsed, on my kitchen floor, the blood flowing out freely, I chose to do one last thing before I drifted off into a sleep that maybe my last.

 _Thank you N, for the memories we shared._ The message was garbled, my head was scrambled eggs but it was final.

She didn’t respond, but I felt her sorrow.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, next chapter we're going to get some much needed Nyota p.o.v, expect sadness and despair because that's how this ended.
> 
> Of course, thank you to the people who have read this far, 5 chapter gang, and I've drafted the story to about Chapter 11, so there's a lot more plot awaiting the people who love wlw.
> 
> Don't worry, Val isn't dead, but there are things in store for her, just keep reading to see.


	7. Chapter 6: I've Built An Impenetrable Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The worst part about this was that I felt the exact moment she broke in half.
> 
> It was selfish for me to want her gone from my head, to appease my state of mind when I knew V made me a better woman, a more well-rounded individual. But it was even more selfish to sit back, docile, and hear her self-destruct.
> 
> To listen to the sounds of harsh impact on her side of the link; what my animosity was making her do. Her screams of pure rage, the cluttering and eventual cryptic thud I heard, that I feared."
> 
> _Or..._
> 
> Much need Nyota pov, but we're not out of the woods yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! 
> 
> Okay, first thing's first, sorry for the delay! Life is about to get hectic for me right now, and I had some family stuff going on so I couldn't sit down and crack out this chapter. Also, regarding this chapter, it's a little shorter, about 5.8k words, definitely the most difficult one I've written, not only because it's from Nyota's pov but the subject matter is somewhat dark and I was trying to prevent the mental ramblings from sounding too redundant, we really get a good glance at Jasmine and Nyota's dynamic as well, so be happy for that.
> 
> Secondly, um, 213 hits?! WHAT THE FUCK, maaaaaaaan, is this real? I'm just waiting for Ashton Kutcher to make an appearance then shove a hundred cameras in my face and tell me I was punked, this is so crazy, thank you so much to all the people that have read this, bookmarked this, left kudos, it all just started with a little idea but my goodness it's grown to a proportion that I never anticipated, once more, you're making one gay girl very very happy!
> 
> Third, as I said, this is a little dark, no trigger warnings but just we're getting into the incredibly inconsistent mind of Nyota Hawthorne and I'm sure by the end of the chapter you guys will want to throw a chair at me.
> 
> However, I will be shutting up now, once more, leave any feedback, and thank you so much for the support thus far, we've still got a ways to go! :D
> 
> Enjoy xx

_**Nyota** _

_As you wish._ V’s husky voice flowed directly into my head and sent me into an entirely new realm of pleasure.

I never knew I could feel this good in my entire life, I wasn’t even sure if my body was equipped to react the way it did. The pleasure didn’t even reach me in waves, it came in one large swoop, knocking the breathing out of me and sending me to new heights that seemed incomprehensible. I didn’t even know my body could react in such a blind display of neediness and lust, for my back to arch that hard, for me to scream that loud, dig my nails that roughly into myself.

The second my orgasm began to subside was when the regret clung to my sweaty and overly satiated form. The regret sat for a few moments, while my brain returned to Earth and finally dissected what the hell I had just done, what I asked V to do, what I _pleaded_ her to do. The connection we had, the conversation, that fucking shower, the things she did to me, how she made feel, it put me in a headspace I didn’t think I was capable of reaching. I felt the passion, the urgency, I needed V to do _anything_ to me, and she provided, she gave me what I wanted, what I begged of her to do.

It was all too fucking much.

I wanted to curl up in a ball when the fantasy shower fizzled and the moment ended. When reality came back to my brain, hit me with the sucker punch I could’ve used before asking V for something so irreversible and for something I hated myself for needing, for wanting in the first place.

I felt that panic settle in on anger, and my retorts came in a series of three, along with V’s rebuttals. She was so calm with me, so reassuring, fighting off the relentless waves of rage that I was emitting. I wanted a reason to hate her, to want her out of my head but I knew it was _my_ immaturity and inability to be vulnerable that kept me from doing so. It was incredibly selfish, to lash out at her in this manner, especially after something so groundbreaking. After I _finally_ let her in, I wanted her out.

I wanted her gone.

 _Get out of my head! Get out of my head! Get out of my head! Get out of my head! Get out of my head! Get out of my head! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!_ I pushed at her so hard, so strongly.

The worst part about this was that I felt the exact moment she broke in half.

It was selfish for me to want her gone from my head, to appease my state of mind when I knew V made me a better woman, a more well-rounded individual. But it was even more selfish to sit back, docile, and hear her self-destruct.

To listen to the sounds of harsh impact on her side of the link; what my animosity was making her do. Her screams of pure rage, the cluttering and eventual cryptic thud I heard, that I feared.

I didn’t know what she had done, but I knew it would eat me alive if I found out.

I wasn’t strong enough to ask her.

But V was strong enough to leave me with some parting words, weak and seemingly lifeless.

_Thank you N, for the memories we shared._

I rolled onto my side in my bed and felt the heavy tears stream down my face, knowing I was the cause of my misfortune and demise. And the fact I didn’t know how to stop myself from ruining the things I loved, the things I wanted.

~

“In you go-” Jasmine tugged at the sash to my robe as we stood in my bathroom, the garment fell open and I shrugged out of the robe and slipped carefully into the warm bath Jasmine had prepped for me.

She had been out last evening, completing her foursome fantasy she had raved to me weeks ago. My friend, I could tell, was eager to let me know all the juicy details that I would cringe and reprimand her for this morning. But upon walking into my bedroom at 10:24 AM, to see my lethargic and still form, Jasmine gently knelt on the bed and announced that she’d be preparing my bath.

So I sat in the warm water, the perfect temperature that would cause my fair skin to flush slightly, small beads of sweat to form on my temples, and the perfect time for the water to cool down so I could stay in tranquility for the longest duration.

“Have you talked to V today?” Jasmine was sitting on the little stool beside the tub again, combing through my hair and rubbing my back in a calming rhythm.

I stiffened at the question, Jasmine felt it.

“No,” I spoke before dragging my legs up in the bath, resting my head atop my knees.

It was true. Frighteningly so, I hadn’t heard from V. I hadn’t felt her either. But this is what I wanted, what I screamed at her for, what I begged her to do, to leave me alone, and now that I was alone, I wanted her back. It was unfair, selfish, so _fucking stupid_ of me to force out such a good thing life had rewarded me with. Then to have this sickening regret, that gagged me so violently, all I wanted to do was scramble back and tell V that I was sorry, that I was wrong, that she was right.

I couldn’t do it though.

It’s because I knew she deserved better than me, a better woman to share those deep feelings with. 

We both felt something so strong when we touched ourselves together. I wanted to say that it was love but I’ve never experienced such a feeling for another romantic partner, so for once in my life, I had no clue.

The fact I _questioned, considered, hoped,_ that it could be love, terrified me.

“Did you two have a fight or something?” Jasmine’s calm voice filled the void my head left me with. She brought me out of my self-degrading mental ramblings.

I stayed quiet and slipped my mouth into the bathwater, bringing the water level up to my nose but never submerging that deep. I dipped my nostrils into the water, then pulled my head back, giving myself air. I repeated the action a few times, before pulling back and allowing my chin to only touch the water.

“It’s complicated,” It was a deflection. Meek words from my mouth, clearly something Jasmine wasn’t going to take if the withering look she gave me in response was any judge of what she felt.

“Simplify it,” Jasmine’s tone turned curt, impatient, clearly my silence and reluctance to express my feelings weighed heavily on my friend.

I wanted to sigh, pout, say something snarky in retort. But the all-encompassing feeling of my guilt, of what I could’ve caused V to do halted those immature tendencies. I needed to talk this out, to let someone in after I pushed someone else so far away.

“You left around 10 last night…” I let my voice trail, my head picked up and my eyes locked with Jasmine’s.

The hostility in her expression earlier had fallen away by this point. Honey brown eyes turned sympathetic and she nodded me on to continue.

“I was turned on. I kept hearing the sounds of V with her numerous hookups, what she can do to a woman-” I paused, my cheeks flushing. I squeezed my eyes tight and steeled myself, knowing I needed to press on. “-I was thinking about her doing those things to me, and it was more appealing than I wanted to admit at the time,”

Jasmine’s hand kept soothing water down my back, continuing to wash me in the bath.

“I’ve never felt anything like that before, pure and unhinged arousal. I fought it because I was scared, suppressed it deep down inside but it trickled out and V asked me what was wrong last night-” My eyes closed again and I recollected.

A silence fell on the two of us.

“-I begged her to do anything she could. Then I sent us to this subspace, beyond a physical component and I saw my version of V, what I think she looks like-” I sucked in a deep breath and held it, Jasmine’s hand pausing and remaining stagnant between my shoulder blades. 

“She pleasured me beyond anything I’ve ever felt before and she’s never even touched me.”

My remark hung in the air and I sniffled, Jasmine’s silence indicative that she knew the story wasn’t over.

“Then I panicked after I came. It was all too much. I felt her feelings, _our_ feelings and to know that they were real and that strong, it made me push her away-” I started to get out and I felt Jasmine’s fingers tense on my back.

“Oh no Nyota, what did you do?” Jasmine’s voice came out soft but there was an underlying hardness to it, I knew she knew that I was in the wrong.

Tears welled when Jasmine asked me the golden question. Tears of self-pity that I wish I could bite back and tears for V, because I didn’t have an answer to her question.

“I have no idea.” Then the tears fell.

Streaming down my face I sobbed, as hard as I was sobbing last night, when I heard V’s farewell, maybe her last message she’d ever send to me.

“And you still can’t feel her this morning?” Jasmine pressed, brushing away one of my tears with her thumb while raising my chin so my eyes met hers once more.

I shook my head, more fear bubbling up. I couldn’t even feel a sliver of V, not even a fleeting emotion, a remnant of joy, or even pain, there was just nothing.

“Nyota, what did you hear last night? Or feel? What’s going to happen to her? What if she’s-” My gaze hardened on Jasmine’s.

“ _ **Don’t.**_ ” I didn’t want to even consider the fact that V could be gone by my hands. I’d surely go mad by the thought alone, not fathoming that it could be my reality all too soon.

My skin prickled, then I shivered in the bathtub once more. Reaching into the water I saw Jasmine pull the plug to drain the tub, I watched my friend stand from the stool and reach for a towel for me. I stayed seated, feeling Jasmine drape the towel across my shoulders before I stood and allowed her to lead me back into my bedroom. I sat at the end of the bed while I watched Jasmine rummage through my drawers, I wanted to get annoyed at her as she looked for clothes and underwear for me, especially as she deviated the condition of my clothes from their organized state into a messy one, but I bit back the immature comments realizing this wasn’t the time or place to bring up something that minuscule.

I dressed, regular medium-wash skinny jeans, and one of Jasmine’s oversized sweatshirts from Juilliard that she let me keep after her graduation. Jasmine plopped next to me on my bed, she was still in her clothes from the night before, hadn’t yet showered and still cared about me enough to comfort me this morning. I wasn’t crying any longer, sitting with my legs crossed on the bed and my gaze on my mattress, my bed wasn’t even made but I had no energy to get up and fix the sheets.

“Hey, you-” Jasmine poked my arm from her sitting position to my right. Her eyes gleamed a bit and I could tell she was trying to cheer me up.

I wanted to return the action but I was still so solely focused on the isolation I felt that I didn’t even bother to.

“We’re going to go out today, let me shower, and we can pop by the studio for my morning class then we can spend the day together,” Jasmine grinned until her dimples popped out and she stood from my bed.

“Sound good?” She asked me and I knew from her tone of voice that the question was rhetoric.

So, I didn’t bother answering.

“Awesome-” Jasmine celebrated and clapped her hands together as if the two of us had a dialogue just now and not like she had been talking to herself for the past few minutes. 

“I’ll be by the door in 15 minutes,” I groaned and flopped back onto my mattress, watching Jasmine skip out of my room and I heard the tell-tale signs of the closing of her door and the shower beginning to run.

Jasmine was rarely punctual, it was me who always reminded her of the time of day and when we’re supposed to be at certain places because that sort of quantitative information stuck to my memory like glue.

But, if Jasmine says we’re leaving in 15 minutes, it means we’re leaving in 15 minutes.

Which is exactly why I walked back into my bathroom to blowdry my damp hair and throw it up into a high ponytail for the day. The Juilliard sweater hung off one of my shoulders but I didn’t attempt to fix the garment as I wrapped some spare hair ties to my wrist. Not bothering to put on earrings or makeup, I took my clutch purse from my desk and walked out exactly 10 minutes after Jasmine had left my room previously.

5 minutes of me sitting on the couch and staring at Jasmine’s closed room, was when her door opened and she emerged in magenta low rising sweatpants and a matching cropped sweater. Feet adorned in sneakers, Jasmine gave me a smirk and threw her workout bag over her shoulder then spun in a quick circle.

“Glad to see you made a wise decision today Hawthorne,” She clicked her tongue and I stood up from the couch, following Jasmine out of our shared penthouse and toward Limitless Dance, her beloved dance studio.

~

“Kat, your technique is clearly flawless but I want you to work on your flexibility a little more, that Grand Jeté you gave me was lacking a lot of extension,” I watched Jasmine work with the girls at her studio. 

Kat, the young dancer, took Jasmine’s words seriously then fell back to the barre with the other girls. I saw Jasmine open her mouth to speak, but the alarm on her phone rang, signaling the end of class. The young, 11 to 12-year-olds enrolled patiently waited for Jasmine to dismiss them before they headed toward the locker room to grab their stuff. Each of the girls always held a large level of respect for Jasmine, especially as an instructor and from her well-accomplished background of dance. I sat on the floor in the studio, back against the wall, a small image in the wall-to-wall mirror as Jasmine turned her attention toward me. 

The doors swung open to the studio which revealed three older individuals, who ran the hip-hip portion of Limitless Dance. Jasmine grabbed her bag as I waved toward Dante, Alegra, and Bennet, who _also_ were the three lucky people that Jasmine spent the evening with last night. 

“Good afternoon!” Dante’s booming voice filled the room as Alegra managed a smirk and a wink in Jasmine’s direction and Bennet seemed to be hiding from Jasmine’s gaze entirely. 

I looked at my friend as she walked toward my direction and grabbed her workout bag off the stool I sat next to. 

“Was that your only class today?” I heard Alegra’s voice, the leggy Hispanic woman reaching both of her arms over her head as she began to stretch. My eyes widening only slightly at the discoloration of her skin when her t-shirt exposed her midriff during the stretch.

Some night it must’ve been.

Dante and Bennet put their bags down as Jasmine hummed and nodded her head, “Yes, and it was an adolescent class, so you guys can’t head back to the locker room just yet,” She swung the bag over her shoulder as the three other instructors gave Jasmine a quizzical expression.

“You mean, you aren’t staying for the day?” It was the first time Bennet had spoken, he was a lanky biracial man, curls falling in his face as he seemed to pout, slight fear entering his eyes.

“I mean, I hope this isn’t about last night-” Alegra tried to get out but Jasmine shook her head.

I suddenly felt like an intruder to the very intimate conversation that was about to take place. I tried to press my back into the wall, hoping the concrete would swallow me whole, and the second-hand embarrassment I was feeling didn’t end my life right now. I could feel my face redden as Dante and Alegra gave Jasmine a skeptical look, Bennet also mirrored my expression.

“Guys, no, of course not. Last night was a blast, all of you guys were a blast, but Nyota was in critical need of my attention, she’s got some issues going on right now,” Her gaze turned to me, which caused all of their eyes to shift.

I squirmed, physically.

I could tell Bennet took some pity, so he dropped his hazel-eyed gaze, but Alegra’s green eyes stayed on mine as did Dante’s brown. Dante crossed his heavy arms, a tank of a man, standing at 6’4” he was a street style performer, working in krumping and b-boy style breakdancing. Alegra finally softened, she was a ballroom style vogue dancer and also taught courses on tutting and wacking, Bennet was a mixture of both, his docile nature melting away the second he stepped up to perform.

“Dante-” Alegra’s voice rang out. It seemed to turn a dial in Dante’s head, the dark-complexioned man moved his eyes off of me, then looked back apologetically.

“Sorry,” He spoke toward me and I shook my head, feigning nonchalance.

“It’s fine, I’m sure foursomes aren’t a daily occurrence, and I probably threw a wrench in your guys’ plan for some much-needed communication today, but-” I got cut off by Jasmine.

“She needed my help, not that she needed to explain it to you-” Jasmine looked pointedly at Dante, who retracted from her eyes and scratched at the back of his head. 

I slowly stood up from the wall and felt the Juilliard sweater fall off my shoulder once more, I felt the urge to fix it but Jasmine was grabbing my hand as she tugged me toward the door, “Have a good class today,” crass in her tone when the door slammed behind us.

We waited outside to see the younger girls from Jasmine’s earlier ballet class exit and get escorted from the studio. Once my friend had counted off the last girl she turned toward me and pulled my arm slightly, “I think it’s poke bowl time,” her dimples popping once again and we walked the streets and headed toward a familiar food vendor.

~

“God, I did not count these macros for my meals today-” Jasmine paused while stabbing some of her rice, kimchi, and beef before taking a bite and grinning. “But, I don’t seem to care right now,”

I dipped my sashimi in eel sauce and took a much more delicate bite than Jasmine. Years upon years of ridicule for my table manners whipped me into shape regarding proper food etiquette, my prejudice of others, who ate normally, mostly had melted away. Though, I still held no sympathy for slobs.

I wonder how V ate.

Fuck.

I cringed, Jasmine noticed and looked at me from across the small table. “Thinking about her?” 

There was no point in lying, “Yes, it’s really difficult not to,” 

I picked up another piece of sashimi with my chopsticks, dipped the fish, then took a bite. The flavor didn’t come off as satisfactory as beforehand, my mind had completely deviated from the nice outing I was having with Jasmine back to V. My thoughts weren’t deep and invigorating like beforehand, I was only pondering about domestic dynamics.

I wonder what she looked like when she read or when she was concentrated? Did her eyebrows furrow? Forehead crease? Did she put a hand to her chin or rub her temples as she was focused? How did she eat? Did she hum when something was delicious to her? Did she close her eyes and gets lost in the taste of something?

Then my cheeks reddened.

Taste. Something V raved to me about.

I came out of my thoughts and cleared my throat, hoping the flushing of my skin didn’t reveal too much.

“Well, everything is on me so where else do you want to head today?” She took another bite from her poke bowl and peered at me expectantly.

“Well, we haven’t done a grocery run in a while,” I ate another piece of my sashimi while Jasmine rolled her eyes and laughed to herself.

“Out of all the places in the city we could go to, you choose the grocery store?” Jasmine questioned me as I continued to eat.

I could only shrug and Jasmine nodded her head, “Alright, we’ll finish here and head to the grocery store,” She attempted to make the location we were headed in more exciting by her jazz hands, and it caused some laughter to trickle out of me.

As promised, Jasmine paid the bill and we exited then hailed a cab to the Whole Foods where we bought the majority of our groceries. I pulled my phone out and entered my notes app, scrolling through the tentative list I had been making for the past month and a half when I noticed the shortage of food within the penthouse.

Jasmine looked over my shoulder and then looked back at me, “You need hobbies besides biting people’s heads off at your job,” she tapped my shoulder and walked to grab a basket.

I grumbled under my breath and adjusted the sweater on my frame, watching as Jasmine returned over to me with the cart. She stopped next to me and looked at me expectantly, I rolled my eyes and looked at the notes app on my phone once again.

“I so _do_ have hobbies, I built my career off of a hobby,” I began walking toward the produce section of the store as Jasmine followed and she tsked at me.

“Oh, Nyota…” She trailed her voice and my eyes rolled once again, knowing whatever she had to say was going to be accurate but it was also not going to be something I wanted to hear.

“You can pretend all you want that writing was a hobby for you and it very well could’ve started off like that, but I know you were too damn smart to not realize that with a pen in your hand you could do anything. I’d say by the time you finished high school your writing stopped being for fun and shifted into a serious endeavor that you wanted a career in, and you made a plan to make it happen,” Jasmine kept pushing the cart as she spoke and I got quiet.

Of course, the mind reader herself, Jasmine Radan was correct.

Writing didn’t necessarily equal fun for me anymore, that rush I used to get when getting in a groove for a particular story or coming up with a complex rhyme scheme for a poem didn’t make my heart race like it used to. I haven’t sat down and written anything from my heart in a very long time, which is exactly what I did in adolescence, what my best work came from. I’m not even sure if I still know how to write from the heart, how to add passion in my work because I’ve been stagnant for so long. I’m used to the formulaic manner at my job, I know what to edit to make stories sell, what authors to seek out for more content, I have my connections in the world of literature, an established word in that same world, but I still feel _nothing._

“Yeah, yeah, so what?” Was my famous rebuttal for Jasmine’s flawless takedown of my so-called  
‘Hobby.’

Jasmine chuckled while scooping up catfish fillets for the house as I ticked the item off the list and grabbed packages of ground beef and threw them in the cart.

“What do you mean ‘so what?’” Jasmine mocked me while grabbing the basket once as we walked toward the dairy section. 

I eyed her back and Jasmine continued to mock me, before groaning aloud.

“My god, when’s the last time you’ve written for yourself? For the hell of it? Not because you need to edit something for work? Or one of the executives is slacking so you work overtime to not cause any buildup? When was the last time writing was ever fun for you?” She stared at me before reaching into one of the freezers to grab some almond milk and french vanilla creamer.

I didn’t have words, so I just stared at my phone and kept ticking off our grocery list.

“I don’t mean to uproot you like this or to bring her up again-” My head whipped toward Jasmine’s and she placed the items in our cart and crossed her arms.

“Dude, I haven’t seen you smile the way V makes you smile since you were 14 years old, since when _I_ met you,” I paused next to the cart, not having the guts to look at Jasmine in the eye after something so candid, something that cut me that deep.

“Why are you telling me this?” I finally raised my gaze, looking at a surprisingly calm Jasmine, who only put a hand to my shoulder and squeezed slightly.

“Because it’s something you need to think about, especially considering the situation you’re in,” She took her hand away and leaned over my shoulder to look at my list.

Jasmine gripped the basket again and kept pushing, frequently casting me looks over her shoulder to make sure I continued to follow her around the store. I quieted after our exchange, or more so Jasmine talking some sense into me, I mulled over her words in my head my memory recalling the specific tones and inflections in my friend’s voice verbatim. We stocked our fridge back up with fruits and vegetables, mostly for Jasmine as she uses them in her smoothies, raided the cookie aisle for a few guilty-pleasure purchases before we headed toward the feminine hygiene section to grab some super packs of pads and tampons.

My eyes narrowed on the U by Kotex brand of pads, my mouth turning downward, “These are $2 more expensive than the last time were at the store,” I grabbed the package and put them into the cart anyway as Jasmine giggled behind me.

“And when was the last time?” She was baiting me, knowing I knew the exact date.

“43 days ago,” I mumbled out haphazardly as Jasmine tapped my shoulder again.

“Never change,” She kissed my cheek and continued to push the cart.

I turned to follow her, taking a singular step, before I faltered and groaned, _loudly._

 _Ow, ow, ow, FUCK!_ V. Oh my fucking god.

I dropped to a knee in the store and gripped my head, pain searing from my temples down toward my arms, knees, legs, I folded like a lawn chair. While collapsing, Jasmine turned her head right as my eyes squeezed shut and my breath began to get heavy, with every single beat of my heart pain shot from my head toward my extremities. My other knee dropped and my hands hit the floor, scaping the tile then beginning to clench and unclench.

 _It hurts…_ V, again, her voice a little weaker.

My vision blurred as I continued to keep my gaze on my hands, barely registering the fact Jasmine had turned the cart around and knelt beside me. Her questions fell on deaf ears as the pain clouded any of my judgment or perception of reality, the only thing I could focus on was what was in my head.

 _What hurts V? Tell me and maybe I can..._ I trailed, weakening, then couldn’t finish as I felt the vague sensation of Jasmine helping me to my feet.

My skin had gotten slick, forehead damp as the pain had caused my body to overheat. I could feel my face flushing and I saw the numerous pairs of eyes on me in the grocery store as Jasmine continued to push the cart around, finding a self-checkout so that she could monitor me. I kept seeing Jasmine’s lips move but never hearing anything she said, the only thing I could comprehend was the thundering of my heartbeat and my panting breaths.

 _I did something bad, something stupid. Please don’t be mad-_ Her words sounded even weaker now.

I was now open mouth panting, chest heaving as the pain brought ringing to my ears. It flickered from side to side, each pass disconnecting me from my physical form in the grocery store and only bringing me closer to the immense emotional turmoil I felt.

 _I can’t be upset because it’s my fault V, don’t blame yourself for my weakness._ My memory blurred after I sent the reply to V.

I don’t remember getting in the cab, driving home, how Jasmine got the groceries inside, but I vaguely recall my back hitting my bed and staring up at my ceiling.

Jasmine had laid next to me, wrapping an arm across my mid-section as she began to rock the two of us as I experienced wave after wave of intense pain. It ran shutters down my spine, caused my teeth to clench, small groans to leave my lips.

 _I should’ve been stronger for you N._ Weaker than before, but I heard V’s voice again.

 _You were strong enough, this isn’t your fault, it’s mine._ I winced again, sniffling slightly, _I don’t deserve you._ With my eyes facing the ceiling of my room, barely registering the lilac color, I felt tears spring out from the side of my eyes and dribble downward.

A slight stirring of sorrow filled my chest but it was nothing compared to the pain.

 _Let me choose what I deserve and I know that choice will have you in it._ V was so sincere, despite the weakness and I choked up more, the sobs beginning to echo and I felt Jasmine’s arm tighten.

 _I know, which is why I have to do this._ I brushed my tears back and began to concentrate.

 _Do what?_ She asked of me, but I stayed silent.

 _N?_ She asked of me again and I remained silent.

I took a deep breath and concentrated on isolation. What my life felt like before V had tumbled into it, I focused on my routines, my jobs, my relationship with Jasmine, but most of all, I concentrated and honed in on the silence in my head. I felt the quiet return, bringing me back to a subspace where I sat in a room and the only emotions I worried about were my own, where I didn’t have to worry about my thoughts slipping through the cracks, hiding my identity to someone, never experiencing passion and sexual experiences that were ever fulfilling. I went back to before this all began, to the woman I was before I met V.

 _What are you doing…? I can’t- I can’t feel you as much-_ V’s voice had quieted in my head.

The pain began to subside, I kept breathing deep, telling myself that cutting her off was going to be what was best for her, so I continued.

 _N, stop please, I’m losing you-_ Her voice cut out and the pain dropped completely.

I took a deep breath, gasping for much-needed air. Jasmine leaned up and looked over at me, eyeing me up, “Are you okay? Is she okay?” she asked and I nodded.

“She will be,” I replied as I heard the sounds of ambulance sirens and yelling on her V’s side of the link fizzle out completely.

~

It was strange. Waking up with a quieted head, slight pressure on the bridge of my nose, but quiet nonetheless. I severed the link, as far I could tell, I couldn’t even feel a remnant of V even if I tried, the last sounds of sirens comforting me because at least someone there in her life gave her the help that I couldn’t provide. I’ve built an impenetrable wall, structured brick-by-brick by my isolation and mental capability. 

I felt the bond end, our connection wither and die, and then I felt nothing at all, nothing more than the sound of my breathing, my sobbing, and Jasmine’s whispers telling me to rest.

I told Jasmine what happened next morning, I could tell she was upset but she had said her piece at Whole Foods the night before, I carved my path, made my decision, now I had to live with it.

With a slight headache settling itself onto me, I pinched the bridge of my nose then settled myself at my desk in my room. I relished in my feelings, and my thoughts, none to share with a woman I’d never meet. Stretching my arms above my head and opening up my work laptop I fell back into the woman I was before I met V, stagnant.

But safe.

Secure.

Comfortable.

I wanted those feelings to be positive so I got cracking on my work, pinching the bridge of my nose now and again to alleviate that pressure.

I made the right decision.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I am sorry.
> 
> Don't worry, I'm gonna fix it, not yet, but I will, I promise.
> 
> Val's pov is going to be pretty interesting as well, expect some lacrosse lingo next chapter, it's gonna be a fun one and definitely not as cumbersome as this one was to write.
> 
> Once more, leave any feedback and to my peeps that comment on my updated chapters, y'all are the real ones and I'm sending you virtual high fives and fist bumps.
> 
> Okay, but that's it, the gay girl is signing off, and I will see you on the next one :)

**Author's Note:**

> Keep in mind this is my own interpretation of a mind link concept, it kinda hit me like a truck. I also recently rewatched Euphoria and I can't for the life of me get the disco aesthetic out of my mind, so fuck it, Val became a roller rink disc jockey. 
> 
> Of course, I'd love some feedback on this idea, maybe even an idea or two that I could incorporate in the plot, though I have a pretty good understanding of where I want to take this...
> 
> Any clarifications on the mind link or any feedback will be appreciated :)
> 
> ♡


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